


( 





rtoss ~]^f7^ 7' 

Book--., 73^? ^ 




/n 






£ri)PYRIGHT DEPOSm 


J ' ■ 14 • 


¥ 























BY C. P. BURTON 


The Boys of Bob’s Hill 

The Bob’s Cave Boys 

The Bob’s Hill Braves 

The Boy Scouts of Bob’s Hill 

The Raven Patrol of Bob’s Hill 

The Trail Makers 

Camp Bob’s Hill 

Bob’s Hill Trails 


BOB’S HILL TRAILS 


BY 

CHARLES PIERCE BURTON 

N\ 



NEW YORK 

HENRY HOLT AND COMPANY 
1922 



X, 




% 


Copyright, 1922, by 
Henry Holt and Company 


Printed in United States of America 

HAR29'22 

g)Cl.A659351 


'VI.O I 


TO THE FRIEND OF MY BOYHOOD 

DR. HARRY B. HOLMES 

THROUGHOUT WHOSE LIFE BOB’S HILL AND GREYLOCK 


HAVE BEEN EVER-PRESENT REAUTIES 


I 


CONTENTS 


CHAPTER PAGE 

I. The Secretary Comes to Order 3 

II. Raven Patrol Hears Bad News 16 

III. Campfire on Tophet Brook 25 

IV. “Advance and Give the Countersign” . 41 

V. The Trail to Stony Ledge 54 

VI. Hopper Trail 67 

VII. Picnic at Peck’s Falls 82 

VIII. Last Day OF School 94 

IX. The Sign of K 108 

X. Robed in Black 120 

XL “Devils IN the Cemetery” 132 

XII. Mother Does a Good Deed 145 

XIII. Some Astonishing Adventures 157 

XIV. The Blazed Trail 169 

XV. Scouts to the Rescue 181 

XVI. Some Historic Trails 193 

XVII. The Sign on the Mill 206 

XVIII. The Square Deal 220 

XIX. Skinny Scares the Picnic 232 

XX. A Letter FOR THE Klan 245 

XXL The Trail’s End 257 


y 


9 


ILLUSTRATIONS 


Then a man, holding a gun, stepped 

FROM BEHIND THE ROCK Frontispiece 

PAGE 

“ Who goes there ? ” shouted the big- 
gest FELLOW AGAIN facing 44 

The Thing raised one arm and pointed 
TO the sky “ 1 12 

^‘Gee, fellers, it’s the cemetery!” 127 

The floor had given away leaving a 

BIG hole “ 182 


I 


I 


I 


♦ 


» 


1 


f., 


4 


I 


\ 


I 


I 


* . 




« 


1 


• 4 







I 


I 




I 


i 


t 


/ 



V 


« 

I 


♦ 


4 




BOB’S HILL TRAILS 







BoVs Hill Trails 


CHAPTER I 

THE SECRETARY COMES TO ORDER 

“ The Secretary will come to order,” said Skinny 
Miller, one Saturday, after the whole Band had 
crawled through the opening into the cave. 

‘‘ You mean the meeting will, don’t you ? ” I 
asked. 

I am secretary, you know, or scribe, the Boy 
Scouts say. It means the same thing, anyhow, only 
we ’most always call it secretary. It sounds bigger. 

When I said that, Skinny pulled out his hatchet 
and everlastingly shook it in the air. He couldn’t 
swing it much, the roof of the cave being only a 
little above his head, where he was standing; but it 
was fierce, just the same. 

“ I said ‘ the Secretary will come to order.’ ” 

“ Order she is then,” I told him. “ Order is my 
middle name.” 


3 


4 BOB’S HILL TRAILS 

We didn’t any of us know what he meant but we 
knew that he meant something. He always does. 
Skinny Miller knows what he is about, every day 
in the week. So we kept quiet and waited. 

“ Pedro,” said he, how long have you been 
secretary? ” 

Benny Wade spoke up before I could answer. 

“ Ever since before I was nine years old,” he 
said, “ and I am going on a hundred now. That 
is a long time.” 

What we want to know, Pedro, is whether you 
have put down anything that ain’t so, about the 
Band or the Boy Scouts, in the minutes of the 
meetin’ ? ” 

“ If I did,” I said, for I thought he was fooling, 

I used invisible ink so folks couldn’t read it.” 

O, you did, did you ? How about this then ? ” 

He pulled a letter out of his pocket and handed 
it to me. 

“ I found it in our box at the postoffice, this 
morning. The Secretary will read the message.” 

Bill Wilson held up a lighted candle so that I 
could see. Here is what the letter said: 

“ Dear Skinny and the Band: — This is the first 
letter I ever wrote to you but I want to ask you a 


THE SECRETARY COMES TO ORDER 5 

question. I have read a lot about the doings of 
the Band and I want to know if all you say is true. 
It sounds to me, when I read about it, that it is all 
a fairy tale.” 

There was a lot more to it but just then I hap- 
pened to turn the letter over and caught sight of 
something on the back of the paper that almost 
took my breath away. It was a circle, and in the 
center of the circle were a coffin and the figures 
29 and 10. That is our Sign and nobody, not 
even our folks, has a right to use our Sign. If 
anyone in the Gingham Ground Gang should use 
our Sign and we found it out — well, there would 
be trouble, that’s all I’ve got to say about it. 

Maybe the Secretary will explain,” said Skinny, 
seeing that I had been struck dumb. 

‘‘ Look here, Mr. President,” I sputtered, don’t 
know whether the guy that wrote this letter is a 
friend of yours or not but I’ll put a head on any- 
body that uses our Sign, unless he belongs to the 
Band.” 

Who’s talking about Signs ? What we want to 
know is about these fairy tales. The Secretary is 
to write the doings of the Band and not fairy 
tales.” 


6 


BOB’S HILL TRAILS 


“ Fairy nothing ! ” I told him. I’m a mem- 
ber of the Band, ain’t I ? I know what we do 
every vacation and Saturdays and nights after 
school, don’t I ? I can see what is going on, can’t 
I, and write it down in the minutes of the meeting? ” 

“ Guess what,” said Benny. ^Tedro can put it 
down, all right, but he doesn’t have to bother with 
invisible ink, ’cause there can’t anybody read his 
writing.” 

The boys all laughed at that. When anybody 
gets mad Benny tries to be funny, so he will get 
over it. But it didn’t help me any. The more I 
thought of that fairy-tale business, the madder I 
got. At first I didn’t think much about it, on 
account of seeing the Sign that way. 

“ I’ll tell you one thing,” I began, ‘‘ and I don’t 
care who knows it, — ” 

“ Skinny — I mean, Mr. President,” shouted Bill, 
before I could finish, “ I move we all go in swimmin’, 
so Pedro can cool off.” 

There was a great shout from the boys and with- 
out giving Skinny a chance to say that the meeting 
was adjourned, which he had to do to make it legal, 
there were eight heaps of clothes in the cave and 
the members of the Band were crawling and splash- 


THE SECRETARY COMES TO ORDER 7 

ing through the water, under Pulpit Rock, toward 
the pool below Peck’s Falls. 

But maybe you don’t know what it is all about, 
unless you have read of the doings of the Band, 
and would like to hear who Skinny, Bill and the 
others are, where our cave is, and all that. Where 
our cave is, is a secret but it has to be in the minutes 
of the meeting. I can’t help it, if somebody reads 
about it. 

A lot of folks know about Bob’s Hill, which 
begins a little back of our house, with only room 
for our garden between. Perhaps everybody doesn’t 
call it Bob’s Hill, like we boys do, but the hill is 
there), just the same. You would think so, I guess, 
if you had to climb it. 

First comes Park street. It starts at the bridge 
which crosses Hoosic river, just beyond the rail- 
road, and runs north. Then comes our house, with 
Phillips’ house next south and Plunkett’s big house 
beyond that. Blackinton’s house is just north. Our 
barn is back from the street and over close to 
Blackinton’s garden. Then comes our garden, with 
rows of apple trees and currant bushes around the 
edge, and a big hop vine climbing a pole in one 
sunny corner, near the house. At the back of our 


8 


BOB’S HILL TRAILS 


garden is a stone wall, five or six feet high, to keep 
the hill from tumbling into the garden; then Bob’s 
Hill, with orchards part way up from the bottom 
and a steep climb beyond the orchards, before you 
get to the top. 

Climb it sometime on a run, if you don’t think it 
is steep, digging the heels and soles of your shoes 
in at every step and your heart pounding like a trip- 
hammer, as I did once when we set the hill on fire — 
but I told about that long ago in the doings of the 
Band. Anyhow, Bob’s Hill is no fairy tale but, 
when you get to the top, you are in fairy-land, just 
the same. 

You can’t see anything but the ground, going up, 
unless you stop to rest and turn around, because the 
hill is right in front of you and you have to lean 
toward it to climb. But pretty soon, when you 
come to the top and stand there to get your breath 
and cool off in the mountain breeze, you are in 
another world. 

Bob’s Hill isn’t a hill at all, on the west side; any- 
how, only a little one. It slopes down about fifty 
feet to a meadow, with Plunkett’s woods on the 
south. The meadow, criss-crossed with stone walls, 
extends, almost level, for a mile back to the West 


THE SECRETARY COMES TO ORDER 9 
road. Just beyond that, old Greylock suddenly 
lifts his head high above everything and reaches out 
giant shoulders and arms clear across the state of 
Massachusetts — yes, even up into Vermont, for 
where we live it is only a few miles from the Ver- 
mont line. 

Greylock is a mountain, as everybody knows who 
ever went to school, up in the northwest corner of 
Massachusetts. It is the highest point in the Berk- 
shire Hills, which you may have heard about, and is 
the most wonderful place in the world to play, we 
boys think. 

Just beyond the West road, in the edge of the 
first woods on the mountain-side, is our cave, with 
Peck’s brook singing its way past the entrance, 
where we crawl in, careful not to get our feet wet 
unless we are barefooted. There, too, are Peck’s 
Falls, tumbling from rock to rock, maybe seventy- 
five feet down, to the pool below, and Pulpit Rock, 
facing the falls like a great pulpit and forming 
almost a natural bridge, fifty feet above the brook. 

To us boys Greylock seems alive — a big giant, 
like when Aladdin rubbed his lamp in Arabian 
Nights, He stands there and smiles down at us 
when the sun shines; plays with us; talks to us, and 


10 


BOB’S HILL TRAILS 


sings sometimes with a great roar, when the wind 
blows through the Bellowspipe. 

You can see all that and more except the falls 
part and cave, of course, from the top of Bob’s 
Hill, looking west. Toward the east, it is different. 
Across a narrow valley is the Hoosac mountain 
range, not so high as the Greylock range, but high, 
just the same. Little Hoosic river flows north 
through the center of this valley, and then west to 
the Hudson, as you can see in the geography, 
and our village stretches across the valley and starts 
to climb the hills on each side. 

There are eight of us boys, when we are all to- 
gether — Skinny, Bill, Benny, Hank, Harry, Wally, 
Andy, and Pedro, which is m3^self, John Alexander 
Smith. Sometimes we are a band of Bandits; some- 
times, a band of Indians; sometimes. Boy Scouts, 
and sometimes we get so mixed up we don’t know 
what we are. Maybe Bill is an Injun; Skinny is 
Gory Gabe, the Bandit King — his real name is 
Gabriel but we call him Skinny, because he is so fat 
— and the others are Boy Scouts, all at the same 
time. It makes it hard for me, because I never know 
whether I am scribe or secretary, when I am telling 
about the doings. 


THE SECRETARY COMES TO ORDER ii 

Our Bandit name is The Boys of Bob^s Hill 
our Indian name, “ The Bob’s Hill Braves, ’’and our 
Scout name, Raven Patrol of Bob’s Hill.” Maybe 
you will believe we are something else before you 
get through reading this history, because big things 
happened which I am going to tell about. What- 
ever we are. Skinny Miller is leader and Bill Wilson, 
next, with Benny Wade not far behind, although he 
is younger. 

As I was saying, there were eight heaps of clothes 
on the sandy floor of the cave, where nobody could 
tie knots in the sleeves, and eight boys were splash- 
ing their way under Pulpit Rock, where it arches 
across the brook, toward the pool under the Falls. 

Bill’s motion was for us to go swimming but that 
was what Mr. Norton, our scoutmaster, calls a 
figure of speech. Peck’s brook isn’t deep enough 
to swim in. In the deepest part you can stand with 
the water only up to your waist, maybe, and watch 
tiny trout nibble at your toes, after you have stood 
quiet long enough. Or you can stoop down, where 
the brook comes foaming and tumbling over some 
ledge, and let the water pour over your back. Say, 
that is a great way to cool off. It didn’t take long 
to forget about being mad. 


12 BOB’S HILL TRAILS 

When we want to swim, we go over to the Basin, 
in Tophet brook, on the other side of the village, 
but that isn’t much more than big enough to dive 
in. 

It was great, standing there in the shady pool, and 
looking up at the top of the ledge. The water comes 
pouring down, playing hide-and-go-seek with the 
sunshine, until finally it tumbles into the pool, with 
a roar which can be heard as far as the West road, 
when the wind is right. The Falls made so much 
noise that we couldn’t hear anything else, although 
we knew that there was a rustling and a whispering 
in the treetops and, maybe, crows were calling to 
each other, over beyond the woods. 

Great snakes ! ” shouted Bill, after we had 
played around there a while. Put this in the 
minutes of the meetin’, Pedro.” 

He opened his mouth and gave a yell that almost 
tore the moss from the rocks. It sounded as if a 
whole band of Indians had broken loose. Bill can 
make the most awful noises of anybody in our part 
of the country, or anywhere else, I guess. 

“ And don’t you dast tell any fairy tales — ” 
began Skinny; then stopped in surprise. 

Louder than the falling water, frightened screams 


THE SECRETARY COMES TO ORDER 13 
came floating down from the woods above. Skinny 
looked at Bill and then at me. They were nearly 
paralyzed; it was easy to see that. 

Guess what,” said Benny. “ Maybe they are 
Pedro’s fairies.” 

“ It’s worse than fairies,” groaned Skinny. “ It’s 
girls; that’s what it is, and we are a long way from 
our clothes. There must be a picnic or something.” 

‘‘ It’s lucky I hollered when I did,” Bill told us. 
“ They would have been out on Pulpit Rock in 
another minute, and Skinny would have had a fit. 
Maybe they are peeking now.” 

We all crouched down in the water when Bill said 
that, with only our heads showing, expecting every 
minute to see them come to the edge and look down, 
or else make their way out on the ledge of Pulpit 
Rock, in plain sight. Not a sound could we hear 
except the noise of falling water. 

“ Maybe I’d better holler again,” said Bill, after 
we had waited a while. He opened his mouth wide 
but still crouched there on his toes, with just his 
head showing above the water. 

Skinny motioned to Benny and me, who were 
nearest, and we gave Bill a quick shove, which 
tipped him over in a hurry and sent his head under. 


BOB’S HILL TRAILS 


H 

The yell had started but it died away in a gurgle 
and a lot of bubbles. 

“ Fellers,” said Skinny, when Bill had come up 
again, spouting water and gasping for breath, “ we 
can’t stay here all day. Let’s beat it to the cave, 
girls or no girls.” 

We crawled through the pool, with only our heads 
showing and without making a sound, but beyond 
the pool the water wasn’t deep enough to duck. 
Then we had to stand up and run as fast as we 
could, which was not very fast on account of the 
rocks. At last we came to the opening, without 
having seen any of the picnickers, and crawled 
into the cave, one after another. 

“Harry,” said Skinny, after we had dressed, 
“ suppose you sneak up and find out where they are. 
Don’t let them see you, because they mustn’t know 
about the cave. Maybe we can happen around and 
get some ice cream or something.” 

Harry crawled out and made his way up the side 
of the ravine. A few minutes later he came back 
again. 

“ Whoever they were, they have gone,” he told us. 

That evening, at the postoffice. Skinny nudged 
me and grinned. We were passing a group of girls. 


THE SECRETARY COMES TO ORDER 15 
who were waiting for their mail. One of them was 
telling about going on a picnic up to the “ Glen ” 
and being frightened away by the “ terrible screech- 
ing of some wild animal.” It made Bill feel proud 
when he heard about it. 


CHAPTER II 

RAVEN PATROL HEARS BAD NEWS 

One morning, not long after the things happened 
that I have been telling about, Benny Wade came 
running into our yard. He was excited over some- 
thing. Benny lives across the street from our house, 
only a little farther north. 

I was hoeing in the garden and didn’t see 
him until he whistled. My father had promised me 
ten cents an hour for working in the garden. That 
was just the price of an ice cream soda, and an ice 
cream soda tastes fine, after an hour’s work in the 
hot sun. 

“ Working, Pedro ? ” asked Benny, coming to the 
fence and looking over. 

Nope,” I told him. “ I’m playing leapfrog with 
this hop vine.” 

“ Leap out in front,” he said. “ I want to show 
you something.” 

“ I’ll go out and look at it for a second,” I told 
him, but I’ve got to come back and finish my hour. 
It’s ’most up.” 

i6 


RAVEN PATROL HEARS BAD NEWS 17 

I was just as excited as Benny was, when he 
showed it to me. What I saw was a big arrow drawn 
with chalk on the sidewalk, pointing up the street, 
and under the arrow was a picture of a crow. It 
looked some like a crow, anyhow. That meant for 
Raven Patrol to follow the trail wherever it might 
lead, even to the ends of the earth. 

‘‘ An arrow in front of our house points over 
here,” said he. “Come on. There is something 
doing. I don’t know what, but something.” 

“ They told me to work an hour,” I said, “ and 
besides there is an ice cream soda in it. I’ll tell you 
what; help me for a half hour longer. That ought 
to be good for another soda, one for each of us. 
The trail will keep half an hour.” 

Benny grabbed a hoe and pitched in so hard it 
made the sparks fly every time he hit a stone, which 
was often. Pretty soon Mother looked out of the 
kitchen window and saw us. 

“ O, boys,” she called. “ Come here a minute. 
I need help.” 

Benny and I looked at each other in despair, 
thinking that maybe the woodbox was empty, but 
we went, just the same. When my mother says to 
do a thing, you have to do it. 


i8 


BOB’S HILL TRAILS 


“ I am frying doughnuts,” she smiled at Benny. 

I don’t see how it happened but I find that I have 
four too many. I thought maybe you boys could tell 
me some way to get rid of them.” 

‘‘ Leave it to us,” we shouted. 

The hoeing seemed to go easier after that and 
soon we were ready to follow the trail. We started 
on a run toward the bridge, for the arrow pointed 
that way. Beyond the bridge, in front of the post- 
office, we found another arrow, and a little farther 
on, where the street turns to go to Skinny’s house, 
was another. Then, when we found an arrow in 
front of the gate, pointing toward Skinny’s barn, 
we knew what to do. 

Not a boy was in sight anywhere but on the side 
of the barn, as big as life, was our Bandit Sign. 
There was a circle and in the center, a coffin. Above 
the coffin was a figure 6 and below, lo. Nobody 
knew what that meant but us. We knew, all right. 

‘‘ Meet at the cave,” it said, “ on the 6th day of 
the month, at the loth hour.” 

“ We’ll have to hurry,” whispered Benny. “ This 
is the 6th and it is half past nine now. The others 
must have gone.” 

We had turned to start, when a lasso fell across 


RAVEN PATROL HEARS BAD NEWS 19 
my shoulders and tightened, and, with a great 
shouting, the Band came tearing out of the barn 
after us. 

Betcher life, a ropers the thing,” said Skinny, 
loosening the knot. “You never know when you 
will need it.” 

“ WeVe just time to get to the cave,” he went on, 
“ unless Pedro^s mother is making doughnuts. If 
she is, maybe we^d better meet there.” 

I nudged Benny to keep quiet about the dough- 
nuts. It seemed best. She only had “ four too 
many.” 

We went down the track as far as the first road 
going west, and turned there. Pretty soon we came 
to a lane and hurried up that lane into Plunkett’s 
woods. From there we made a bee-line to the cave, 
through the woods and across the fields. 

From the West road a mountain trail winds part 
way up Greylock, until it peters out somewhere 
and runs up a tree. We followed that trail, until 
we were opposite Peck’s Falls and were starting 
to turn into the woods, with a whoop, when Skinny 
stopped us. 

“ Hist I ” said he, dropping behind a tree. “ Have 
you forgotten how we were attacked, that time? ” 


20 


BOB’S HILL TRAILS 


Great snakes ! ” exclaimed Bill. I ’most for- 
got Pedro’s fairies. It was awful, too.” 

We crawled through the woods, keeping behind 
trees and bushes and making no more noise than 
we could help, the roar of the falls growing louder. 

There was nobody in sight, girl or anything else, 
so we stopped at Pulpit Rock a minute, as we ’most 
always do. Skinny edged his way out on a narrow 
shelf-like ledge, until he was about half-way across. 
In front of him were the falls, pouring down into 
the pool. Back of him was a wall of rock, maybe 
five or six feet high and a foot or two thick, sort of 
hollowed out on top. That was the pulpit part, 
which you can see for yourself by going there. 

Motioning for us not to make any noise, Skinny 
put his hands on the pulpit and drew himself up, 
until he could see over and down into the ravine, 
far below. From there, he could see the place 
where the cave was, with a big tree seeming to be 
growing out of the top of it. Then he carefully let 
himself down to the ledge and edged his way back 
along the narrow shelf again. You have to be care- 
ful, for it would kill anybody to fall off. 

“ The coast is clear, men,” said he. Forward, 
and mum’s the word.” 


RAVEN PATROL HEARS BAD NEWS 21 


It didn’t take long to find out what the meeting 
was for, when we once were inside the cave. 

‘‘ Something terrible has happened,” exclaimed 
Skinny. Tell them about it. Bill.” 

‘‘ Mr. Norton has got to go away,” began Bill. 

He has to go out to Chicago to spend several 
months, maybe a whole year.” 

Say! You could have knocked me down with a 
feather when Bill said that. It paralyzed us. 
Nothing would be the same without Mr. Norton. 
Harry was the first to speak. 

“ It will ’most break up the patrol,” he groaned. 
“ We can’t get along without Mr. Norton.” 

We all felt the same and I saw Skinny sort of 
fingering his rope but not saying a word. 

How soon does he have to go ? ” somebody 
asked. 

“ About the first of October.” 

“ Anyhow,” said Skinny, “ we’ve got all summer 
to have fun in and something may happen in that 
time.” 

We hung around the cave quite a while after that, 
talking about Mr. Norton’s going away and trying 
to think of some scheme to keep him from going, 
but it wasn’t any use. 


22 


BOB’S HILL TRAILS 


Fellers/’ said Skinny, finally, “ weVe got to do 
something before he goes and do something big. 
Pedro, think of something; you are secretary.” 

“ I’m secretary, all right,” I grumbled, but that 
ain’t what secretaries are for. They are to write 
up the minutes of the meeting.” 

Skinny pounded the sides of the cave with his 
hatchet, until the sparks flew like everything. 

A secretary is to do all the business of the 
Band,” he said. “ I read it in a book.” 

Well,” I began, trying to think of something, 
there’s that ball game with the Gingham Ground 
Gang — I mean the Eagles. I saw Tom Chapin’s 
mother and she said he was coming home for a two 
weeks’ vacation. We’ll need him to catch for us.” 

Tom Chapin was captain of the Band at the 
start, until he went away to school. He was the 
one who found the cave. We still call him a mem- 
ber of the Band but not of Raven Patrol. 

That is something,” said Skinny. “ We must 
play that game, fellers, before Mr. Norton goes. 
He will want to see it. But we’ve got to do more 
than that. We’ve got to have all kinds of fun, 
more than we ever had before.” 

‘‘ Nobody could ever have as much fun as we do,” 


RAVEN PATROL HEARS BAD NEWS 23 

said Harry. “ Do you remember that time we 
were lost on Greylock? No fun, then. Oh, no! ” 

“ I guess you haven’t forgotten when we set Bob’s 
Hill on fire,” I told them. I couldn’t forget that 
in a thousand years. It was fun afterwards but 
wasn’t so much fun while it was going on. I was 
scared half to death.” 

“ Do you remember when we hiked over Florida 
mountain ? ” said Benny. 

“ And the time we pretty near drowned right here 
in the cave ? ” said Bill. “ I guess we should have 
drowned if it hadn’t been for Tom Chapin. Great 
snakes ! That was some time, all right.” 

Don’t you remember when we licked the Ging- 
ham Ground Gang ? ” said Andy. “ That was be- 
fore we began to be friends. We wouldn’t do it 
now, of course.” 

“ But we could, just the same, only we don’t want 
to,” put in Bill. 

“ Betcher life I ” said Skinny. “ And I remem- 
ber when I lassoed that bear, just like yesterday. 
Gee, he was mad. I’ll bet I’d ’a’ lassoed that lion, 
out in Indiana, if I’d had my rope along.” 

“ Huh 1 ” Bill told him. That was only a 
moving-picture lion, without any teeth.” 


24 


BOB’S HILL TRAILS 


“ He had claws, just the same. I noticed that 
you were scared, all right.” 

“ That was a lot of ftm,” Bill went on, willing to 
change the subject, “when I ’most got killed at 
Natural Bridge, in North Adams.” 

“ And when we made the spanking machine and 
everlastingly pounded Bill,” laughed Hank. 

“ I guess we have done everything there is to be 
done,” mourned Skinny. “ There ain’t anything left 
to do. Maybe we’d better begin and do the things 
all over again.” 

“ Nixy on the spanking machine,” Bill told him. 
“ I won’t stand for that again.” 

It made me feel bad to have Skinny say there 
wasn’t anything left to do, for what Skinny can’t 
think of isn’t worth doing anyhow, and I told him 
so. 

“ I can’t think up something, all in a minute,” he 
said. “ Of course, we can go swimming and fishing 
and have campfires with Mr. Norton, and things like 
that. We’ll do those things, anyhow. But this 
must be something big. I’ll tell you what: let’s 
ask Mr. Norton. He ’most always can think of 
something.’^ 


CHAPTER III 

CAMPFIRE ON TOPHET BROOK 

Unless you have read the doings of Raven Patrol, 
you may not know about Mr. Norton. He is our 
scoutmaster, and they don’t make them any better. 
Our folks would rather have us with Mr. Norton 
than at home, because we always learn so much 
when we are with him. 

“ John,” said my father, one day. The folks call 
me John, or John Alexander when they are mad, 
but the fellows call me Pedro. John, what kind 
of a man are you going to be, when you grow up ? ” 

“ Assuming,” put in Mother, “ that he does grow 
up. My stars I I don’t see how boys can get into 
so many scrapes and live.” 

“ I think I’ll be like you, Dad,” I told him. 

Don’t you do it,” he said, “ but if you will 
pattern after that scoutmaster of yours, your mother 
and I will be very proud.” 

We didn’t know how to get along without Mr. 
Norton. It almost would be like losing Skinny or 


25 


26 BOB’S HILL TRAILS 

Bill. He is the one who got us to join the Boy 
Scouts, made our Band into Raven Patrol, taught us 
all the Scout stunts — how to take care of ourselves 
when we are lost, and things like that. 

Mr. Norton is also the one who took hold of the 
Gingham Ground Gang, one time after we had been 
fighting, and formed them into another patrol, called 
the Eagles. Then the Summer Street Gang sent us 
a notice not to go swimming in the Basin any more, 
because it was in their part of the town. Of course, 
we went just the same. It would take more tlian 
that gang to stop us, I guess, in a fair fight but they 
jumped on us one day when they were two to our 
one and drove us off. Then, what did Mr. Norton 
do but make Tiger Patrol out of them ! 

We like it and we don’t like it. Bill Wilson 
shakes his head about it sometimes. 

There soon won’t be anybody left to fight, if 
this thing keeps on,” he said, one day, unless we 
fight each other. I’ve a good notion to lick Skinny 
right now, just for practice. I’ve got it in for him, 
anyhow.” 

‘‘ Lick nothin’ ! ” Skinny told him. He stooped, 
picked up a chip and balanced it on one shoulder. 
“ Maybe you dast knock that off,” said he. 


CAMPFIRE ON TOPHET BROOK 27 

Bill would have done it, too, and then there would 
have been an awful fight, if Benny hadn^t crept up 
and poked the chip off with a long pole. When 
Skinny came back from chasing Benny, he had for- 
gotten all about Bill. 

It was Mr. Norton, too, who took us to 
Indiana one summer, where we camped out near 
some lakes. And he went with us to Boston and on a 
lot of hikes, and was scared half to death when we 
were caught in a storm on East mountain and had 
to stay all night, although it didn^t hurt us a bit. 
He thought we were lost but we knew where we 
were, all the time. 

So when Skinny said, Let’s ask Mr. Norton,” 
we knew that it was the thing to do. We went up 
to his house right after supper, and found him out 
in the back yard. He didn’t see us at first. 

“ Everybody caw,” whispered Skinny. “ Loud ! ” 

Say! He saw us then and heard us, too. So did 
the neighbors. They came running out to see what 
had broken loose, and then went back mad. Some 
folks seem to think a boy can keep still all the time. 

But Mr. Norton wasn’t mad. He yelled, Caw,” 
back at us, as loud as anybody except Bill, and 
hurried out in front. 


28 


BOB’S HILL TRAILS 


‘‘ This is fine, fellows,” he said, his face beam- 
ing — “ a great pleasure and a great honor. I knew 
that my garden needed hoeing but I never for a 
minute thought you would come up here and do it. 
It won’t take more than an hour, if we all pitch in 
and work hard. How did you happen to think 
about it ? ” 

Skinny looked at Bill, kind of scared, and then at 
me, and I saw Harry scratching his head, as if he 
didn’t know just what to do. We’d as soon hoe Mr. 
Norton’s garden as any but you have to do some- 
thing besides hoe garden, once in a while, I guess. 

Bill nudged Skinny and Skinny gave me a kick 
on the shin, which meant for me to get busy and say 
something, being scribe. Just then I saw a twinkle 
in Mr. Norton’s eyes. 

“ You are trying to fool us,” I told him. “ There 
isn’t a weed in your garden. I’ll bet you have just 
finished hoeing it.” 

He turned around and looked at it in surprise. 
“ That is right,” said he. ‘‘ Now I wonder how that 
happened to slip my mind.” 

We have come on important business,” I added. 
“ We want to talk over something.” 

He led the way to the shade of a big tree, for the 


CAMPFIRE ON TOPHET BROOK 29 
sun was not yet down, and threw himself on the 
grass, while we gathered around close, Benny closest 
of all. 

“ Go easy, now,” he said. “ Break it to me gently. 
You must remember that I am not very strong. 
But, wait — before we begin I am going to ask one 
of the gentlemen from Park street, Mr. Benjamin 
Wade, to run into the house and tell them that the 
Champion Ice Cream Eaters of America have assem- 
bled, expectantly.” 

“ You see,” he explained, “ Mrs. Norton made 
ice cream for supper and made so much she has been 
hoping somebody would come along and help get 
rid of it, before it melts.” 

“ Everybody caw,” yelled Bill, before Skinny 
could get a chance. Bill is assistant patrol leader 
and likes to work at it once in a while. 

“On second thought, Benny,” said the scout- 
master, when the noise had stopped, “ it will not be 
necessary for you to go. Here comes the lady now. 
She must have heard that you were here.” 

“ Maybe,” he went on, looking at me, “ the busi- 
ness is too important to wait. If it is, I suppose 
the stuff will have to melt.” 

“ Oh, stop your foolishness,” said Mrs. Norton, 


BOB’S HILL TRAILS 


30 

who had come up in time to hear what he was saying. 
“ Give these boys a chance. I believe you are more 
of a boy than they are.’’ 

I like ice cream just as well,” he exclaimed, 
reaching for a spoon. 

After that there wasn’t much said for several 
minutes; but when the cream had been eaten and 
Bill had put away two dishes of it, we told about 
what we had heard, that our scoutmaster was going 
away; that we knew it would break up the patrol, 
and that we wanted to do something big before he 
went but couldn’t think of anything big enough. 

“ We can’t get along without you,” said Skinny. 
“ We’d just as soon think of getting along without 
Bill.” 

“ I call that a real compliment,” laughed Mr. 
Norton, “ for Bill certainly is a regular fellow.” 

I have tried to keep close to you boys,” he 
went on, looking sober. Fifteen years difference 
in our ages means more now than it will twenty years 
from now but we have been great pals, just the same. 
I have had a business offer from Chicago which I 
can not afford to turn down, although it will keep 
me there for a year or more. You would not ask 
me to, I am sure. You and I owe it to ourselves 


CAMPFIRE ON TOPHET BROOK 31 
and to the world, to make the very most we can of 
our abilities and our opportunities. 

That is what I call success — not to make 
money, although a reasonable amount is desirable — 
but to make the most of one’s self. I have been 
trying to do it, with your help. You have been try- 
ing to do it, I hope, with my help. As the years 
go on, we’ll keep on trying, and, maybe, some of 
these days you will pass me; but I am going to set 
you a hot pace and lead you a merry chase, and 
don’t you forget it. 

Even if I do go away, we’ll keep close to each 
other, just the same. Meanwhile, if I understand 
our patrol leader correctly, you wish me to go out 
in a blaze of glory, so to speak. You want to do 
something new and something big. You have asked 
me a hard one. If there is anything you boys 
haven’t done, I can not think of it at the present 
moment. Anyhow, I am willing to leave it to 
Skinny. He’ll think up something, never fear. I’d 
even be willing to leave it to Bill. Whatever else 
we may do, we surely must have a lot of campfires, 
for I have much to say to you. We haven’t had a 
campfire in a long time. Let’s have one right away. 
What do you say ? ” 


32 


BOB’S HILL TRAILS 


“ Where’ll we have it? ” asked Skinny. 

“We could have it almost anywhere but there 
is a place, not far away, which I want you to see. 
Were you ever at what is called Bowen’s Corners ? 
It is on one of the hill roads, up toward East moun- 
tain.” 

I guess we had been nearly every other place, 
especially west of the village, but this was east and 
we hadn’t been there, although we had hiked over 
the Hoosac range, farther north. 

“ Is it anywhere near the place I lassoed the bear, 
that time ? ” asked Skinny. “ If it is. I’ll take my 
rope along.” 

“ No, that was farther south.” 

“ What is up there ? ” asked Bill. 

“ Wait and see. The place is on Tophet brook, 
only a half mile or so above the Basin, if we follow 
the brook. It may be several miles by the road.” 

“Let’s follow the brook,” I said. “We have 
been up Peck’s brook above the falls but never 
Tophet brook, although we often have talked about 
doing it.” 

“ All right, if that suits you. We shall have to 
come back by the road, for it probably will be after 
dark. If Skinny will call a meeting for tomorrow 


CAMPFIRE ON TOPHET BROOK 33 

afternoon, about five o’clock, I think I can be ready 
by that time.” 

“ How about eats ? ” 

“ You make a good commanding officer. Skinny, 
for you always look after the eating part. Suppose 
each one carries a lunch; then we can stop by the 
brook somewhere and have a picnic.” 

When the time came, we didn’t need any Sign 
to tell us about it. We went down Summer street, 
until we came to some bars across a trail, which 
wound down from the mountain through a pasture. 
Then, when we reached a certain tree we turned and 
climbed down a steep path, along the side of a 
ravine, until we came out in front of a little pool 
of water, at the bottom. 

The pool is about a rod long and almost as wide, 
held there in a scooped-out place in the rock, like 
a great bowl. Tophet brook comes fighting its way 
down among the rocks, at the bottom of a deep 
ravine with wooded sides, until a little above the 
pool it spreads out over a floor of stone, then pours 
over the edge into the pool, three or four feet below. 

That pool is the Basin, where we go swimming. 
It is great there in summer time, for the sun strikes 
it only in the middle of the day. During the rest 


BOB’S HILL TRAILS 


34 

of the time it is shady down there and the water, 
nice and cool. 

The Basin looked good to us. Mr. Norton was 
ahead, leading the way and wondering, I guess, 
where he could step so as not to get his feet wet. 
Bill grabbed Skinny and turned him around; then 
held up two fingers for us to see, moving them back 
and forth slowly. 

That meant, Let’s go swimming.” 

Mr. Norton didn’t care, when we asked him 
about it. He sat down in a cool place and waited, 
where the water was pouring around the end of a 
stone, making a soft, gurgling music. 

In less than half a minute there was a double 
splash, as Skinny and Bill jumped into the Basin; 
then came six other splashes, and for half an hour 
we forgot about everything else except that we were 
having all kinds of fun. 

“ Time’s up, fellows,” called Mr. Norton, finally. 
“ Let’s move on. I am beginning to feel hungry.” 

We were, too, only we hadn’t thought about it; 
we had been too busy. There was a race to see 
who would get dressed first and soon we were 
climbing up the brook again, jumping from rock to 
rock, or going single file along the edge. 


CAMPFIRE ON TOPHET BROOK 35 

After a time we climbed up out of the woods and 
ravine into a shady meadow, and sat down under a 
tree to eat our lunch and have a campfire. 

“ Everybody scatter and bring wood,’* shouted 
Skinny, after we had eaten all we could stuff and 
had sprawled around a while. 

Don’t build too big a fire,” warned our scout- 
master, “ just big enough to light up the shadows, 
when it grows dark, and make things cheerful. We 
do not exactly need a fire at this time of the year.” 

“ What were you going to show us, Mr. Norton? ” 
asked Benny, after we had sat around and talked 
a while. 

He pointed to a house, which stood not far away, 
where two roads crossed. 

Huh 1 That ain’t much,” said Skinny. There 
are a lot better houses than that down in the vil- 
lage.” 

‘‘Of course, it is worth coming for,” he added, 
to be polite. 

“No, the house isn’t much to look at, as you 
say, but it is a very interesting place, just the same, 
because a great woman was born there. Her name 
was Susan B . Anthony. You boys may be too young 
to have heard much about her.” 


BOB’S HILL TRAILS 


36 

“ I have/^ said Skinny. She wanted to vote or 
something. I read it in a book.” 

“ Yes,” laughed Mr. Norton, she wanted to vote 
or something. She grew up into a very strong and 
famous person — a big, brainy, brave woman, with a 
mission. She couldn’t vote, herself, and she had no 
husband to vote for her; yet she had to pay taxes. 

“ What caused the American Revolution, Skinny ? 
Maybe you read that in a book.” 

Taxation without representation,” recited 
Skinny. “ The colonists fought like blazes. I had 
thirteen ancestors in the Battle of Bunker Hill, 
and one of them was killed. They waited until 
they could see the whites of the enemy’s eyes and 
then — ” 

Aw, cut it out,” Bill told him. “ This ain’t any 
history lesson.” 

‘‘ Well, they did, anyhow,” grumbled Skinny. 

Right,” said Mr. Norton. “ Go to the head 
of the class. As our learned patrol leader has in- 
formed us, the American colonists were obliged to 
pay taxes and they didn’t have anything to say 
about it. If they had been represented in the 
British Parliament and in that way had voted taxes 
on themselves, they wouldn’t have thought any- 


CAMPFIRE ON TOPHET BROOK 37 
thing about it, for the taxes were not burdensome, 
but they did not like to have money taken away 
from them without their consent. 

“ Susan B. Anthony felt much the same way. She 
couldn^t see why, just because she happened to be 
born a girl baby instead of a boy baby, she shouldn’t 
have something to say about spending her own 
money, after growing up. It didn’t seem just or 
right to her. So she started a movement for 
woman’s suffrage, or helped to start it. She worked 
and wrote and talked for it, and devoted her life to 
what she considered a great and righteous cause, 
and at last it came about, although she didn’t live 
to see it. The Susan B. Anthony amendment to 
the Constitution of the United States, giving women 
the right to vote, finally was adopted. 

“ Boys, I am not going to discuss the question of 
whether woman suffrage is a good thing or not. 
Here is the point. Susan B. Anthony was born 
right over there in that house, and just because a 
certain baby came to live there, that house is now 
one of the historic landmarks of the Nation. Do 
you suppose, in after yearst, people will point to the 
house where one of you boys was born, and treasure 
it as an historic landmark ? ” 


38 


BOB’S HILL TRAILS 


“ Maybe they will our barn,” I told him. ‘‘ There 
have been big doings there.” 

Why not ? Wouldn’t you go a long way to 
see the barn where George Washington played when 
he was a boy ? It is hard for us now to think of 
such great men as having been boys like yourselves, 
playing in some barn, maybe. It is a wonderful 
and inspiring thing that boy and girl babies, who 
do not know anything at first, can grow into 
great men and women, who take this old world by 
the hair of the head, so to speak, and start it off in 
a new direction.” 

“ It seems strange,” he added after a moment, 
that the early settlers of this country built their 
houses on the hills instead of in the valleys. Savoy, 
over there on the mountain, for instance, was a 
thriving settlement before there were any people 
living in the valley at all. 

“ Susan B. Anthony’s father came here at an 
early day and built a small cotton mill, by the side 
of this little brook, high above the valley. He 
rigged up a waterwheel and ran the mill by water 
power. There wasn’t any more than enough power 
to run the mill. One day, so the story goes, his wife 
came down to the brook to get a pail of water. 


CAMPFIRE ON TOPHET BROOK 39 
She dipped her pail into the little flume above the 
wheel, instead of the brook below it. Her husband 
pretended to be mad about it. 

What are you trying to do ? ” he exclaimed. 
“ Do you want to stop the mill ? ” 

Talking in this way about many things, the even- 
ing passed quickly and it came time to start for 
home. We carefully put out the fire with water 
from the brook but there was no mill to stop. Then 
we went up to the house where Susan B. Anthony 
was born and started down the road, which led in a 
round-about way to the village. 

“ You asked me to tell you something big to do,” 
said Mr. Nortons, when the time had come to say 
good night, and I have just thought of something. 
I’ll go with you, if I can get away, but if I can’t 
I’ll be willing to trust you boys to go alone and may- 
be your folks will.” 

“ You have been up on Greylock, several times,” 
he explained, “ and you have climbed down the west 
slope into the edge of the Hopper, but you never 
have been to Stony Ledge.” 

“ Where is that ? ” asked Bill. 

^‘It is the peak just west of Greylock, on the 
other side of the Hopper. There is a wonderful 


BOB’S HILL TRAILS 


40 

view from the top of a ledge, down into the Hopper. 
It is worth seeing, and as the trails have been pretty 
well marked we shouldn’t have much trouble in 
finding it.” 

“Everybody who wants to go to Stony Ledge 
caw three times,” shouted Skinny. 

There was an awful racket for a minute. Bill 
Wilson making more noise than anybody. 


CHAPTER IV 

“ADVANCE AND GIVE THE COUNTERSIGN” 

“John Alexander,” said Father, one morning, 
“ what are those chalk marks on the front of the 
house ? ” 

“I don’t know,” I told him. “ I haven’t been 
out yet. What kind of marks are they ? ” 

“Somebody has drawn a wobbly circle on the 
brick wall, and put something or other in the center 
of it. I am not sure whether it is a load of hay or 
a wheelbarrow.” 

“ Are there some figures or anything like that ? ” 

“ Come to think of it, I believe there are some 
figures. What is it ? Did you put it there ? ” 

“ No, I didn’t put it there,” I hurried to tell him. 
“ It wasn’t there when I came in last night and I 
haven’t been out this morning. Somebody is try- 
ing to be smart, I guess.” 

“ If I find any boy marking up this house. I’ll 
make him smart in several places at the same time,” 
he went on. 


41 


42 


BOB’S HILL TRAILS 


“ And I’ll put a head on the first fellow I catch 
at it,” I told him. 

That seemed to satisfy him but I’d have hard 
work doing it*, if it happened to be Skinny. Any- 
how, you never can catch Skinny at anything. 

I knew what it was, all right, or thought I did. 
That “ load of hay ” was a coffin, and the chalk 
was our Sign. There was going to be a meeting of 
the Band. 

As soon as breakfast was over, I sneaked out and 
took a look at it. Sure enough, there was the Sign, 
as big as life. It said to meet at the cave at nine 
o’clock. But I couldn’t tell the folks. The Sign 
is our secret, and what folks don’t know doesn’t 
hurt them any. 

I had an hour’s work in the garden to do, sign or 
no sign, and it was the longest hour I ever knew. 
It was almost nine when I finished. I was just 
scrambling over the wall, at the back of the garden, 
up into Blackinton’s orchard, when I heard mother 
calling. 

“ John,” said she; then, John Alexander 1 ” 

When she put on the Alexander part, I knew it 
meant business. 

“ What do you want ? ” I yelled back. 


GIVE THE COUNTERSIGN” 


43 


“ The woodbox is empty.” 

Isn^t that fierce ? Every time a fellow starts to 
do something important that woodbox has to be 
empty. 

“ 1^11 be late,” I told her, before I thought. “ The 
Sign said nine o’clock.” 

Late for what ? What sign ? ” 

Nothing,” I explained. Only I have a hunch 
that the Band is going to have a meeting or some- 
thing.” 

‘‘ I have a hunch, too,” she said. “ If that wood- 
box isn’t filled and heaped up inside of fifteen 
minutes, it is going to be a sign of bad luck.” 

That is why the secretary was late at the 
meeting. I went up over the hill alone and hurried 
on through the fields to the West road, taking the 
short-cut from there to Pulpit Rock. You go up 
the mountain road only a little way; then turn in 
between two red houses. From there you walk 
along the edge of a ravine, until you come to a barb- 
wire fence. That isn’t the place, but, if you are 
not a girl, you can wriggle under the fence, without 
tearing your clothes, and come out into a path, 
which winds through the woods to Pulpit Rock. 

Skinny says that girls are all right sometimes but 


44 BOB’S HILL TRAILS 

they are not much good getting through barbwire 

fences. 

I didn’t stop to look at the falls or the rock but 
hurried down into the ravine to the brook, where 
it foams past the mouth of our cave, and was just 
going to stoop to crawl in, when a voice yelled, 

“ Halt ! Who goes there ? ” 

I started back in surprise, because there hadn’t 
been a sound before that, and I didn’t know whether 
the Band was there or not. 

Two fellows crawled out of the cave and stood, 
one on each side, with their clubs crossed in front, 
barring the way. Each one had a handkerchief 
tied over the lower part of his face, for a mask. 

“ Who goes there ? ” he shouted again. 

A friend,” I told him. 

‘‘Advance, friend, and give the countersign,” he 
said, but stood right in the way so that I couldn’t 
advance worth a cent. 

I thought for a minute. “ Bunker Hill,” I told him, 
for that ’most always is Skinny’s countersign, on 
account of his ancestors. 

“ Bunker nothin’ ! It’s something you heard 
of only the other night, when you came home from 
Bowen’s Comers.” 



"‘Who Goes There?’' Shouted the Biggest Fellow Again. 



i 


• / ■ 


I ■ i:r -■- ^ 





.rr 


I’ 


• : * ’. j-' ■ 

■ • J* • / 

-■ ‘"it^.nii 


i .V. ‘ • 

- , ji* • ! 




T ■’ H 



* » 


t '^. x*. 

► J r 


.. T.. 






> . 4 , J 






*7 . ' •.-*:»* ■^♦- • V r.. ^ 


r Vt^ 






} ^ *^*xr 


a 


’5 ' -Hj. 

y, >* ' • . '•• .. 


:: -_,,f^ ■.a>%rV- - 

- /■} * - ^ > -'■ ^ ikV t* . 

' ^ ’ V.* V * ■ 



»y 




r-^ „ • > ■ ''#■■»*• .. v>'^v’ ' ' 


% 

, i 



' V^yir 

■’"Ct' 

S • • 

«* . 

V- 


. *i- 

r 4 ^ 

- ' 


'\'.. ^ . ■ toV 


LA-i, ..r 




i\ 


' ■t^: 


A . 

r 


• VT 


?‘fer. ' ‘ Ml..’* 4- i; •■ 'vK • V- ^ 



■" k i 




' ’^•■- 'V* - ^ '■ •. ■* • 


V '* » , “ ~** .•- * . i-.ri^fV.. r 







'/i-: 

• «i ♦T " 



^'' Vi* ■ 

. 1 .^ > . 






‘‘GIVE THE COUNTERSIGN 


45 


“ Stony Ledge ! ” I said. 

“ Stony Ledge she is. You have passed the first 
test. The prisoner now will draw the Sign.’’ 

He handed me a piece of chalk and I drew on 
the rock our Sign, calling a meeting of the Band at 
nine o’clock. 

“ Fiend in human form ! ” yelled Gory Gabe, the 
Bandit King, shaking his club. “ Look at the time. 
It is twenty minutes past the hour. The gang is 
waiting.” 

“ Your Gory Highness,” I said, trying to get my 
wits together, “ may I speak and live ? ” 

“ You may; but first enter. What happens will 
happen.” 

We crawled into the cave and the boys set up a 
shout when they saw the secretary. Skinny pounded 
with his hatchet, until they were quiet. 

“ Now let the varlet speak,” he hissed, taking off 
his mask. 

“ I was late in starting,” I told him, “ on account 
of having to work an hour, but I could have made 
it, only the woodbox was empty and Mother saw me 
sneaking up the hill.” 

“She wanted the wood,” I went on, hurriedly, 
for not a boy said a word and Skinny had begun to 


46 BOB’S HILL TRAILS 

shake his hatchet in a fierce way, because she had 
to fry some doughnuts.” 

“ ’Tis well,” he shouted. Let be what is. The 
meetin’ will now come to order.” 

The meeting was about going to Stony Ledge, 
back of Greylock, the place Mr. Norton wanted us 
to see. Mr. Norton said he couldn’t go for a couple 
of weeks, when Skinny asked him about it, and may- 
be not then. 

“ What’s the matter with our going alone ? ” said 
Skinny. 

“You could, I suppose. You are Boy Scouts, 
and Boy Scouts know how to take care of them- 
selves pretty well. There is a good main road all 
the way and most of the trails are marked. Better 
ask your folks. I am willing, if they are.” 

“ And that is why we are holdin’ this ’ere meetin’,” 
Skinny told us, after the secretary had called the 
roll and we had heard about Mr. Norton. “ My 
folks say that I can go if I promise not to get lost. 
Lost nothin’ ! You can’t lose me. They thought 
we were lost, that time we camped all night on East 
mountain but, betcher life, I knew where we were 
and where we wanted to be, only we couldn’t get 
there.” 


“GIVE THE COUNTERSIGN” 47 

“ It was just the same with me, the time I sprained 
my ankle on Greylock and you were all looking for 
me,” said Bill. “ Great snakes ! I^d ^a’ been look- 
ing for you, if I could have walked. I sent up 
smoke signals, all right, and don’t you forget it.” 

“ How about it, fellers ? Shall we go ? ” 

There was a chorus of caws, when the secretary 
called the roll. 

“ It’s unimoua,” said Skinny. “ How about hav- 
ing Pedro get his father’s horse and wagon ? ” 

“ He wouldn’t let us take it, I know,” I told him. 
“ This is a busy time with him and he needs it him- 
self.” 

“ Then I suppose we’ll have to walk. It will 
take more lunch. Climbing mountains makes a 
feller hungry.” 

“ Guess what,” said Benny, edging up close to 
the opening, where he could get out without losing 
any time, “ Skinny read it in a book.” 

The President made a grab for the Gentleman 
from Park street, without waiting to adjourn, but 
Benny wasn’t there. He was outside the cave, 
yelling like an Indian and standing ready to splash 
water on anybody who chased him. 

We started for Stony Ledge early next morning, 


48 BOB^S HILL TRAILS 

carrying some things to camp with and plenty to 

eat in our Boy Scout packs. 

“ Take the car to Cheshire Harbor,” Mr. Norton 
told us. “ A fairly good road goes up from there. 
Keep on until you come to the Greylock road, from 
Pittsfield; then turn down that and you will see the 
Stony Ledge trail in about a minute. A sign reads, 
• Stony Ledge and Hopper Trail,^ or something like 
that.” 

“ There will be another kind of sign when we 
get there,” bragged Skinny. 

Better go easy on that stuff. The mountain is 
a state park, you know, and pretty well looked 
after. If it wasn’t, I shouldn’t want you to go 
alone.” 

We turned up a road into the woods, just north of 
Cheshire Harbor. The morning was cool and we 
felt fine. From down below, on the left, beyond a 
stone wall, came the murmuring of Bassett’s brook, 
loud at first, sort of calling us to come down and 
have some fun; then, fainter and fainter, as the 
road climbed higher and higher, leaving the brook 
behind. The brook was climbing, too, but not so 
fast. 

Birds v/ere twittering and chirping in the trees. 


“GIVE THE COUNTERSIGN” 


49 

which lined the road on both sides much of the way. 
But once in a while there would be a clearing and 
then, far ahead, we would catch glimpses of some 
wooded hill. Cool breezes fanned our faces, as we 
hurried on through sunshine and shadow, and high 
above our heads great, white clouds played tag in 
the sky. 

“ What are we. Bill ? ” asked Benny. “ Injuns, or 
Boy Scouts, or Bandits ? ” 

“ Great snakes ! ” said Bill. “ We are all three 
and then some. Wait a minute; I can’t stand it.” 

He put down his pack, took a long breath and 
commenced. It was awful to listen to, even when 
we knew what was doing it. 

“ Everybody caw,” shouted Skinny, when Bill 
finally stopped for breath. 

Say! They knew Raven Patrol was on the trail. 

We climbed for a mile or more, and were begin- 
ning to get warm and a little out of breath, when 
we came to an apple orchard. Beyond was a red 
farm house, almost entirely surrounded by moun- 
tains. It had a nice shady stoop, with a hammock 
on it. I saw Skinny looking at the hammock, and 
I guess we all were thinking the same thing, when 
we heard a deep voice say, 


50 


BOB’S HILL TRAILS 


“ You’ve only got four miles more to go.” 

Skinny groaned, thinking of those four miles, and 
we looked around to find out who was talking but 
couldn’t see anybody; so we went on. 

Beyond the house and barn it began to look wild 
and scary. Then, all of a sudden, from up the 
winding road we heard a fearful clatter coming to- 
wards us, as if an army was charging. 

“ Injuns ! ” shouted Bill, grabbing his Boy Scout 
hatchet and looking around for some place to hide. 

“ Charge, my braves ! ” yelled Skinny, beginning 
to unwind his rope. “ Charge ! But spare the 
women and children.” 

But we didn’t do any charging, for just then they 
came around the turn in the road, in a cloud of 
dust — a mass of horns and big animals of some 
kind; they looked like a million. 

“ Guess what,” groaned Benny. “ It ain’t 
Indians; it’s buffaloes.” 

Down they came on a run, filling the road from 
one side to the other. It paralyzed us at first; 
then Skinny shouted for us to run and we made for 
the fence. 

There was no time to climb over or through; they 
were upon us, before we could have said Jack Robin- 


‘‘GIVE THE COUNTERSIGN” 


51 

son more than two or three times. We could only 
stand there, hugging the fence and hoping that their 
horns would miss us. I could see Skinny sort of 
swallowing hard, as the leaders swerved out a little 
and passed without touching him. Then, when he 
saw what they were, he began to get mad. 

Just as the last ones were passing, he gave a yell, 
whirled his lasso around his head, threw, and braced 
himself. He couldn’t miss they were so close to- 
gether. The loop hung in the air a second; then 
settled over one of the horns. 

There was another yell, this time of fright, as 
Skinny was jerked into the road and went bounding 
along after the herd, touching the ground about 
every ten feet. He was scared; it was easy to see 
that, and so were we, for we knew that if he fell 
he would be dragged. Tearing along after Skinny, 
barking and growling, was a dog, and, chasing after 
the dog and yelling, was a man. 

We didn’t know what to make of it at first, as we 
watched Skinny go sailing down the road, trying to 
keep on his feet. If he should fall once, there would 
be no Stony Ledge for us that day. 

“ Let go ! Let go ! ” shouted the farmer. 

But Skinny Miller isn’t built that way. He never 
lets go. Besides the dog was close behind him. 


52 


BOB’S HILL TRAILS 


Great snakes ! ” said Bill. We’ve got to 
help Skinny. Come on.” 

We found them in a fence corner by the barn, 
about twenty cows and a bull, all but one. That 
one was on the other side of the road, fastened to 
one end of the lasso and looking surprised. Skinny 
had wound the other end around a fence post and 
stood there panting and wiping the sweat from his 
face. 

‘‘ I lassoed the critter, betcher life,” said he. 

Of all the fool tricks, that was the limit — ” 
began the farmer. Say, did you boys leave the 
gate open and let those cows out ? ” 

“ We couldn’t,” Benny told him. “ We were 
on the way up and they were on the way down, 
when we first saw them. Gee, I was scared.” 

“ They belong to a neighbor,” the farmer ex- 
plained. They were afraid of the dog. Where 
are you boys bound for ? ” 

‘‘ Up on the mountain.” 

^‘Well, you are off the trail. ’Most everybody 
misses it right here. There it goes over on the 
other side of the barn.” 

We sat around in the shade a while and talked to 
the farmer, for we were tired and hot, especially 
Skinny. 


“GIVE THE COUNTERSIGN” 


53 


“ It is great here,” we told him. 

“ It is fine in summer,” he said, “ but the winters 
are fierce.” 

Looking back the way we had come, we could see 
in the distance two hills, or mountains, sloping down 
to form a big letter V, and looking through the V, 
far beyond we could see the houses of East Cheshire, 
with the Hoosac range beyond them. Back of us 
the trail disappeared up the mountain, into a pine 
wood. To the north was a meadow; then more 
mountains; and far up the valley, nothing but 
mountains. 

“ I can sit on my front porch, in the evening,” 
said the farmer, “ and see the lights of the automo- 
biles, as they come down Mohawk Trail, over 
Florida mountain, into North Adams.” 

After we had rested, we went over to the trail 
and started up again, among the pine trees. It was 
a steady climb now and we grew hot and thirsty, 
but it was great, just the same, with the smell of 
pine woods, and crows cawing over on the mountain. 

“ Caw ! Caw ! ” we answered back. 

“ Caw ! Caw-caw ! ” they cried, as if they be- 
longed to Raven Patrol and were glad to be alive 
and getting hungry. 


CHAPTER V 

THE TRAIL TO STONY LEDGE 

Halt ! ” shouted Skinny, after we had walked 
an hour or more — a steady climb. Listen ! ” 

‘‘ Great snakes ! Skinny,” said Bill, “ if you do 
any more lassoing, catch ’em going up hill instead 
of down. We’ll get there quicker.” 

Skinny didn’t say a word, only held up one hand 
for us to keep quiet. As Bill stopped speaking, 
there came to our ears the sweetest music you ever 
heard, when you were thirsty, anyhow — the gurg- 
ling of a mountain brook. 

Maybe you never climbed the Greylock range, so 
thirsty that your tongue was hanging out, and, all 
of a sudden, heard the noise of water pouring over 
the rocks. If you never did, you don’t know how 
good that mountain brook sounded to us. With a 
glad shout, we rushed forward; around a bend ir 
the road we came to a bridge, across a little stream. 
In less than a minute eight boys were l3dng down 
with their faces in the water, sipping up great 
mouthfuls. 


54 


THE TRAIL TO STONY LEDGE 55 

There are any number of such streams among the 
Berkshire Hills. Mr. Norton thinks a lot of them, 
and so do we, for they are great fun. He called 
them “ the glory of New England,” when we were 
talking around the campfire, on Tophet brook. He 
told us something else, too, — something which may- 
be I ought to have put down before but it will go 
here just as well. 

“ Your Bob’s Hill,” he said, “ and Greylock and 
the valley and mountains where you boys play, 
are the very prettiest part of the Berkshire Hills, 
which are famous for their beauty. Man has done 
more for the scenery, down Lenox way, in the 
southern part of Berkshire county, where very 
wealthy people have beautiful homes and parks, 
and have walled them in, but up here is where 
Nature lives. The wild beauty here is God’s work. 
We are doing our best to spoil it with our mill towns 
but up here among the hills we can see God’s own 
beautiful thoughts and the work of His hands.” 

It is true, too, for on the face of Greylock there 
is a great letter E, which shows real plain from some 
places. My mother says that E stands for Eternal 
and that God carved it there; but the writing isn’t 
very good. 


5 ^ 


BOB’S HILL TRAILS 


Anyhow, it feels great, when you are hot and 
thirsty, to souse your head in mountain water and 
hold your wrists in it, until your blood has cooled. 
It seemed a good place to eat, although it wasn’t 
noon yet. 

I don’t know how we happened to do it, but, 
after a while, we crossed a road without noticing 
that it was the Pittsfield road where we should have 
turned off — without thinking about it, even. It 
was not good Scout work, as Mr. Norton told us 
afterward We did it, anyhow, and it was not the 
only poor Scout work we did that day. 

But when we came to another road, or maybe it 
was the same one in another place, for the roads 
wind and twist around in climbing the mountain, we 
thought of what our scoutmaster had told us about 
the Stony Ledge trail. Soon we found a good road 
leading off and followed that. The road kept going 
down and I didn’t like the looks of it, but we went 
on until we met two men who were fixing it with a 
machine. 

“ Will you tell us where this road goes to ? ” 
asked Skinny, politely. 

“ It goes to North Adams,” one of the men said. 

Gee whizz 1 ” groaned Skinny, looking around 


THE TRAIL TO STONY LEDGE 57 

at us. WeVe passed the trail, fellers, and have 
got to go back. I’m kind of tired, too, lassoing that 
buffalo and everything.” 

Back we climbed. The road wound around 
and around, until we didn’t know where we were 
and couldn’t find the place where we had come into 
it. 

^^We didn’t follow the North Adams trail this 
far,” said Harry, “ I know we didn’t. I thought 
they couldn’t lose you on these mountains. Skinny.” 

Just then we came out into the open and saw a 
high steel tower ahead of us. I knew where we 
were then, and so did Skinny. 

They can’t,” said he. “ Betcher life, I know 
where we are. We are on top of Greylock.” 

We hadn’t meant to go up on Greylock at all but 
that is where we were, and we didn’t know where 
Stony Ledge was, any more than the man in the 
moon. 

As long as we were on top of Greylock, we 
thought we might as well walk around a little. We 
went over to the east side, where we could see 
Plunkett’s woods and the top of Bob’s Hill, far 
below, and talked things over. Some of the boys 
were for climbing down the land-slide, which reaches 


58 BOB’S HILL TRAILS 

like a great streak down the face of the mountain. 

Skinny wanted to go to Stony Ledge. 

What would Mr. Norton think/’ he asked, “ if 
we went back and told him that Raven Patrol 
couldn’t find Stony Ledge ? ” 

That settled it. But where is it ? ” Andy asked. 

“ Search me. Anyhow, we know where we are. 
It’s the Ledge that is lost.” 

A man showed us the way to the right trail; told 
us just where to turn and everything. 

“ Follow that trail, he said, until you come to 
an east and west road; then turn to the left. You 
can’t miss it.” 

Guess what,” said Benny, dodging behind Bill. 
“ Skinny can miss it, if anybody can.” 

We found it, at last, just where Mr. Norton had 
told us it would be, with a sign on it, reading “ Stony 
Ledge and Hopper Trail.” 

It made us feel rested and we started on a run. 
The trail led down hill, winding through the woods. 
We finally came to a cross- trail and another moun- 
tain brook. On the other side of this trail there was 
a sign, “ Hopper Trail,” but the sign didn’t say any- 
thing about Stony Ledge. Hopper Trail went down 
hill too fast to suit me. 


THE TRAIL TO STONY LEDGE 59 

‘‘Stony Ledge is a mountain/’ I said, “not a 
valley. If we keep going down, where will we 
come out ? ” 

“We ought to have taken that cross-trail by the 
brook,” said Bill. “ I ’most know we had. Let’s 
go back.” 

That seemed the thing to do and we felt sure of 
it a little later when, after we had followed the 
cross-trail for a quarter of an hour, we came out 
on a good road. 

“ Turn to the left, fellers,” Skinny told us. 
“ That is what the man said.” 

Away we went down the road, on a run. It 
was such a good road we knew that it must lead 
somewhere. 

“We are all right,” shouted Hank, who was 
on ahead. “ I see a sign. It points the way. I’ll 
bet.” 

It did. We found the words, “ To Stony 
Ledge,” and a hand pointing, only it pointed back 
the way we had come. 

We all groaned and Bill threw a rock at it. If 
he had hit, there would have been no more sign, but 
he missed. Then we walked back up the road 
again, too tired and disappointed to talk. 


6o 


BOB’S HILL TRAILS 


“ Fellers,” said Skinny, at last. “ Brace up. It 
stands to reason that Stony Ledge is somewhere. 
I don’t know where it is and I don’t know what it 
is; but it is somewhere and it is something, and, 
betcher life. Gory Gabe and his Gang are going to 
find it. Everybody caw.” 

By the time the noise had stopped we were all 
feeling better, especially Bill. 

“ Wait a minute,” said he. He stood on his hands 
and gave a fierce yell. “ Now they will know we 
are coming.” 

I guess maybe we ought to have turned to the 
right instead of to the left,” said Skinny, when we 
had come to the cross-trail. ^^So we’ll keep going.” 

In a few minutes more we came to a foot-path, 
leading from the road down into a grassy place, 
and the sign on it said, “ To Campground.” Down 
there, wading in a brook, we saw two small boys. 

We found their father, not far away, and asked 
him the way to Stony Ledge. He looked at us in 
surprise. 

‘‘Are you kids running around this mountain 
alone ? ” said he. 

“ Sure ! ” said Skinny. “ We are on the way to 
Stony Ledge.” 


THE TRAIL TO STONY LEDGE 6i 

The man said something, which we couldn’t hear. 

Well,” he went on. I’ll put you on the right 
trail.” 

“ Maybe you can tell us how to get out of here, 
after we have seen Stony Ledge,” said Skinny, 
hopefully. 

“ Where do you want to go ? ” 

“ Oh, an5^here.” 

“ Which way did you come ? ” 

“ Up Cheshire Harbor Trail.” 

“That is Cheshire Harbor trail, up there.” 

He pointed up in the air to a high wooded ridge, 
which stood out against the sky. 

“ It will be a hard climb of five hundred feet,” 
he went on, “ and I shouldn’t advise you to try it, 
unless you know what you are about.” 

It made Skinny kind of mad, when the man 
seemed to think he didn’t know what he was about 
but the man didn’t pay any attention. 

“You boys come with me,” said he, in a gruff 
voice. 

We walked over to a sort of road, leading off into 
the distance, almost level at first, then climbing a 
little hill and disappearing among some trees. 

“ This is Stony Ledge Trail,” he snapped. “ You 


62 


BOB’S HILL TRAILS 


go along that trail, until you come to a railing, and 
that is the place to look.” 

And when you come back,” he went on, biting 
off his words as if he was mad about something, 
“ you take that trail there.” 

He pointed to a path, which soon lost itself in a 
pine wood. 

That is Hopper Trail to Williamstown. It is 
two or three miles farther that way than by 
Cheshire Harbor Trail but it is down hill through 
the Hopper. We’ll have five more hours of sun; 
there will be time.” 

“ And remember,” he called after us, “ the rule 
on Greylock is to go straight up or straight down, 
if you get lost. Whichever way you go, two hours 
will take you to safety.” 

Great snakes ! ” said Bill, when the man was 
out of hearing. “ Pedro, see if my head is on 
straight. I thought he was going to take it off.” 

Stony Ledge is worth seeing. Skinny told me to 
put it in the minutes of the meeting but how can I 
do it without a picture or something ? When we 
had come to the railing the man spoke about, we 
knew what he meant when he said, That is the 
place to look.” The railing was put there, a little 


THE TRAIL TO STONY LEDGE 63 

way back from the edge, to keep folks from going too 
close where they might fall off. 

We stood there looking a long time, without saying 
a word. Benny was the first to speak. 

It^s a hopper, all right,’’ he said. I never 
knew before why they call it the Hopper.” 

Betcher life, it’s a hopper,” Skinny told him, 
and it’s a whopper.” 

When we look at Greylock from the east side, 
where we live in a valley between two mountain 
ranges, we see Bob’s Hill; then meadows, gently 
sloping up until the real mountain is reached; then 
a great wooded range, with Greylock towering above 
the rest of the range, like a big giant. The top of the 
mountain is almost straight across and it slopes 
down just the same, on each side, to the rest of the 
range. It doesn’t look that way from anywhere 
else but it does from where we live. 

Now we were looking from the west at the back 
of Greylock, — from a lower peak, perhaps two 
thousand feet high and maybe more. In front of 
us stood the giant looking a little round-shouldered; 
we could see the whole sweep of his broad back, ris- 
ing up out of the valley below, twenty-five hundred 
feet or more, just green tree-tops, without a break. 


64 


BOB’S HILL TRAILS 


At the left, two other peaks sloped down at dif- 
ferent angles, forming what looked like a sharp edge 
of tree-tops, where their sides came together. And 
there was nothing in sight but tree-tops — all kinds 
of green, from the new green of the maples to the 
almost-black of the pines, which we could see in 
great splotches here and there. 

At the right, in the same way, arose the green 
slope of another peak. The peak where we stood, 
a stony ledge, was lower than the others, almost 
straight up and down and without trees to spoil the 
view. Down below, I don’t know how far, maybe 
fifteen hundred feet, was a great green trough filled 
with growing trees. Out of this trough rose the 
mountain peaks, their wooded slopes forming its 
sides. 

That trough was the Hopper. Wherever we 
looked we saw nothing but tree-tops, so close to- 
gether and so far away, they seemed like giant moss, 
or like a wonderful carpet, or a lake of green, with 
high waves at the sides standing motionless. Down 
below somewhere, under the carpet, at the bed of 
the lake, Hopper Trail went winding down among 
the trees, toward Williamstown. We couldn’t see 
it but we knew it was there. 


THE TRAIL TO STONY LEDGE 65 

“ 111 tell you what,” I said, after a while. “ Let^s 
come up again in October, when those leaves are 
crimson and gold.” 

“ The Secretary will put it in the minutes of the 
meetinV’ said Skinny. 

We had been so interested looking that we hadn^t 
noticed what was back of us, until of a sudden we 
heard, 

Ba-a ! Ba-a ! Ba-a ! ” 

We turned, and there stood a flock of sheep, look- 
ing at us and wondering, I guess, what we were 
doing and how long we were going to stay. 

“ Mountain goats, fellers ! ” exclaimed Skinny, 
“ like Robinson Crusoe saw that time.” 

He fingered his rope, as the sheep edged nearer 
and nearer, when we didn’t move or do anything to 
scare them. 

“ I’ll bet I can lasso that big one,” he went on. 

Robinson Crusoe hadn’t anything on us. He had 
a gun and all we have is a rope.” 

We didn’t think he would do it, after what had 
happened when he lassoed the cow, but when the 
big fellow came up close. Skinny couldn’t help it. 
He just had to throw. 

The frightened animal jumped back, jerking 


66 BOB’S HILL TRAILS 

Skinny off his feet; then he ran around in a circle, 
close to the edge of the cliff, Skinny following and 
pulling back all he could. 

Suddenly the sheep whirled and lunged in the 
other direction, swinging Skinny around like the 
boy on the end, when you play crack-the-whip. Be- 
fore we could help him or had time to think even, 
there was a terrible cry of despair, and Skinny 
plunged into the Hopper. 


CHAPTER VI 
HOPPER TRAIL 

When something terrible happens, all of a sudden, 
it kind of dazes a fellow and he doesn’t know what 
to do. All I could think of was Skinny falling 
down, down, into Devil’s Hopper and whether the 
sheep would fall on top of him or he on top of the 
sheep. 

I don’t know how long we stood there, with that 
awful scream ringing in our ears; probably only a 
second or two but it seemed minutes. The sheep 
was yelling, too, “ ba-a,” and struggling to keep 
from being pulled over the edge, but Skinny’s weight 
and the jerk when he plunged over were too much 
for him and he was being slowly dragged toward 
the Hopper. 

Bill was the first to move. I heard him say, 
“ Great snakes ! ” under his breath. Then, in two 
jumps, he was on top of the sheep, bracing his feet 
and yelling for help. The rest of us jumped almost 
as quickly as he did and grabbed the rope wherever 
we could get hold of it, 


67 


68 


BOB’S HILL TRAILS 


“ Pedro,” said Bill. we can hold him. Crawl 
to the edge where you can see and tell us what to 
do.” 

Throwing myself flat on my face, I hitched for- 
ward, until I could see over the edge. There was 
Skinny, with the end of the rope wound around his 
hands and hanging on for dear life. On his face 
was a look which I never can forget. Far down 
below were the tops of trees, like giant moss, at 
the bottom of the Hopper. 

He saw me looking down and tried to smile but 
couldn’t. 

How long can you hang on, Skinny ? ” I asked. 

“ I don’t know,” said he, wetting his lips with 
his tongue. “ Not long. You’ll have to hurry.” 

“ Hold on for a minute and we’ll have you up. 
Steady, Bill. Don’t jerk the rope. Now ! All 
together ! Pull ! ” 

With me telling them what to do and Skinny trying 
to help with his feet, they pulled him up, a little at 
a time; then one after another would get a 
fresh hold on the rope, brace himself and pull again. 

Grab me, Pedro,” he gasped, when he was 
almost up. “ I can’t hang on much longer. It 
’most tore my arms loose, when I fell over.” 


HOPPER TRAIL 


69 

“ YouVe got to hang on/’ I told him, as I reached 
for his collar and managed to get one hand under 
his arm at the shoulder. I was out over the edge 
myself and scared half out of my wits. ‘‘ If you let 
go now, we are both goners.” 

In another second Bill had grabbed him imder 
both arms and the boys were pulling on Bill, catch- 
ing hold wherever they could, as if he had been a 
rope. Soon Skinny lay flat on his stomach, at the 
edge of the cliff, with his feet still hanging over. 

Nobody said anything for a second. I was try- 
ing to wriggle back from the cliff without falling 
over and the others were getting their breath, I 
guess. Then we all began to talk at once except 
the sheep. He was too far gone or too scared. 

“ Is your leg broken. Skinny ? ” we asked. 

“ I guess not,” he told us, faintly. “ I can move 
it but I hit my knee a fearful whack, when I went 
over.” 

He struggled to his feet; then his face went white 
and he sank back, with a little moan, “ I can’t 
stand my weight on it,” he said. 

Bill looked at me and I looked at him, both of 
us nearly paralyzed. There we were at the jump- 
ing-off place, with a whole mountain range between 


BOB’S HILL TRAILS 


70 

us and home, our patrol leader couldn’t walk and we 
didn’t have anything to eat. It was enough to 
paralyze anybody. 

“ The first thing to do,” Bill told us, “ is to have 
a look at that knee.” 

Bill is assistant patrol leader and knows all about 
first-aid- to- the-injured stunts. Skinny felt better in 
a moment and by that time we had his knee bare. 
It was swollen and looked pretty bad but no bones 
seemed to be broken. 

The mountain goat ” still lay where we had 
jumped on him, when we tried to keep him from 
going over the cliff. We thought he was dead. 

Anyhow,” said Benny, trying to be cheerful, 
“ we got Skinny’s goat, all right.” 

But just then the sheep scrambled to his feet, 
shook himself a little, bleated faintly once or twice 
and limped away. 

“ My rope 1 ” cried Skinny. “ He’s got my rope.” 

Oh, forget it,” I told him. We’ve had rope 
enough for one day.” 

Skinny wouldn’t have it that way. He was bound 
to get that rope. It took us ten minutes to catch 
the sheep but we cornered him finally and took off 
the lasso. 


HOPPER TRAIL 


71 

Now,” said Bill, weVe got to carry Skinny 
down to the brook, where the man was camping. 
Then we can bathe his knee and maybe the man 
will help us. Pedro, you and I will make a chair 
and carry him as far as we can; then the others can 
take turns.” 

He grabbed his own left wrist with his right hand 
and I did the same with mine. Then I took hold of 
his other wrist with my free hand and he did the 
same to me. Our four hands placed that way made 
a seat. Mr. Norton, our scoutmaster, had us do it 
sometimes, when we were practicing our Scout stunts, 
but we knew all about making a chair long before 
we ever heard of Boy Scouts. 

We stooped down until the chair was close to the 
ground and the other boys put Skinny into the seat; 
then we stood up. And there he was, riding in a 
comfortable chair, with his arms around our shoul- 
ders to steady himself. It was easy to carry him 
that way, although he grew pretty heavy after a 
time and we had to change boys about half way 
down. 

“ Whereas the rope ? ” he asked, when Andy and 
Harry were making a chair. 

Benny has it,” I told him. 


72 


BOB’S HILL TRAILS 


No, I haven’t ” said Benny. I thought some 
one else took it.” 

Nobody had Skinny’s rope. We had left it lying 
on the ground at Stony Ledge. 

‘‘Never mind the rope, Skinny,” urged Bill. 
“ Your knee is swelling fast. We’ve got to get you to 
the brook and do it quick.” 

“Run back and get it, Benny, that’s a good feller,” 
said Skinny. “ We’ll wait for you at the brook. 
You never dast go out without a rope and that is 
the best rope I ever had. Where’d I be now, if it 
hadn’t been for that rope and the sheep on the end 
of it ? ” 

Benny reached the brook with the rope almost as 
soon as we did and Skinny coiled it around his shoul- 
ders. He wasn’t going to take any chances. 

We bathed the knee for a long time, until the 
swelling went down and it began to feel better but 
our troubles had only commenced. The man and 
the two little boys had broken camp and were gone. 
We called, trying to make them hear, but it wasn’t 
any use. We were alone in the mountains, and 
Skinny not able to walk. 

Once when Bill sprained his ankle, just after he 
had started down Greylock into the Hopper, he was 


HOPPER TRAIL 


73 

able to crawl back to the top, to where he could see 
down into Hoosic valley. Maybe he could have 
seen us looking for him if he had had a glass. Any- 
how, he could see the houses of the village and could 
send up smoke signals. 

This was different. The whole of Greylock was 
between us and home. We were somewhere on the 
mountain west of Greylock, and there wasn’t any- 
body to see our signals, if we made them. It didn’t 
look good to me. 

“ Try to walk. Skinny,” urged Bill, after we had 
bandaged his knee. We’ve got to get home some- 
how before dark, or go hungry.” 

Skinny tried his best, gritting his teeth, but had 
to give it up. He couldn’t carry any weight on that 
knee. 

“ Maybe I could hop on one foot,” he said, “ if 
somebody helped me a little.” 

Bill shook his head and looked around at us in 
despair. 

“ Mr. Norton says,” I told him, “ that when we 
get into trouble we should talk it over calmly and 
sensibly, decide what is best to do and then do it.” 

“ I’ll tell you what,” said Skinny, finally, after 
we had talked it over quite a while. You fellers 


BOB’S HILL TRAILS 


74 

leave me here by the brook and go down the moun- 
tain for help. Go down the Cheshire Harbor Trail; 
that is nearest. The trouble is that you might not 
get back before morning and there isn’t anything 
to eat. Gee, I am hungry already but I can stand 
it, if I have to.” 

We won’t do it,” Bill told him. We are not 
going to leave you.” 

Then let somebody stay with me. You can’t 
all stay. It might be several days before anybody 
came along.” 

We might get lost trying to find the trail,” 
objected Harry. Don’t you remember the man 
said not to try it, if we didn’t know what we were 
about.” 

“ Betcher life, I know what I am about,” Skinny 
told him. 

“ And if we did get lost, we’d be in the same fix 
that we are in now and would have to camp out 
until morning, with nothing to eat and maybe noth- 
ing to drink.” 

Guess what,” said Benny, we could get help 
on top of Greylock, maybe. The man said for us 
to go straight up or straight down. Only we might 
wander around imtil dark, just like Harry said, and 


HOPPER TRAIL 


75 

have to stay until morning. Mr. Norton told us not 
to do any mountain climbing after dark.’^ 

Great snakes ! ’’ cried Bill, jumping to his feet. 

Let^s carry him and go straight down through 
Hopper Trail. We carried him down here and we 
can carry him farther, if we take turns. There are 
seven of us. That is three chairs and one boy be- 
sides. We know exactly where Hopper Trail is, and 
if we follow that trail we can’t get lost. We will 
come out somewhere, sometime.” 

“ But where and when ? ” I asked him. “ It is 
a long way to Williams town, two or three miles 
farther than to go the Cheshire Harbor way, the man 
told us.” 

I don’t know,” he said, but I am going to find 
out. It is the only thing to do. We will come across 
a farmhouse somewhere. I shouldn’t wonder if 
there was somebody camping out down in the Hop- 
per, on Money brook. Come on, Pedro. Let’s 
make a chair. It probably won’t be far; I ’most 
know it won’t.” 

Say! We wished that Skinny was as light as his 
name, before we had gone a mile. Skinny weighs 
a ton, or you would think so, if you had to carry 
him far. 


76 BOB’S HILL TRAILS 

We made a chair with our hands and started. It 
was fun at first. The trail was a broad path, leading 
down through the prettiest pine woods you ever saw. 
It was one of the splotches of dark green on the 
mountain side, which we had seen from Stony Ledge. 
We were some rested, too, and Skinny was begin- 
ning to feel fine, only he couldn’t walk. 

‘‘ It’s like a battle, fellers,” said he, “ and you 
are carrying the wounded back to our cave. There 
is a cave down there. Don’t you remember the old 
den which we found that time, near Money brook ? 
Let’s look for it; I’d like to see it again.” 

“ Nothing doing ! ” Bill told him, stopping to 
wipe the sweat off his face. “ We couldn’t find the 
cave, if we wanted to, and, believe me, we don’t want 
to. If you feel so all-fired good, suppose you keep 
away the pesky flies that are bothering us.” 

Bill didn’t mean to be cross but Skinny was get- 
ting heavy and swarms of flies were following us 
and lighting on our faces. It was hot down there in 
the Hopper. There was no air stirring, for the 
mountains on every side cut off the breeze. The 
flies and mosquitoes were fierce. 

The trail led down hill fast. Pretty soon we were 
out of the pine woods and among maples and chest- 


HOPPER TRAIL 77 

nuts and trees like those, which have flat leaves. We 
could see their leaves fluttering in the breeze, high 
above our heads, and wished we were up there. 
Once in a while we heard a crow calling. 

“ Caw, caw-caw ! ” we shouted back. 

“ I wonder if the eight of us couldn’t lick the 
guy that told us to come this way,” groaned Bill, 
when it came his turn to help carry Skinny again. 

I’d like to give him a good punch right now.” 

But when we had come to a little mountain brook 
and stopped to rest and drink and bathe our faces 
in the cool water, it seemed a good place to be, after 
all. The swarm of flies had left us. We knew that 
we probably should pick up another swarm farther 
down but there in the open it was fine.* 

We sat there a long time, cooling off and listening 
to the brook. Bill felt so much better that he gave 
a few yells, which sounded awful there, in the lone- 
someness of the Hopper. 

“ I’ll tell you what,” said Skinny, when we were 
ready to start again. Some of you guys take my 
hatchet and cut me a pair of crutches. I’ll bet I 
could walk, if I had crutches.” 

“ Skinny,” said Bill, “ you’ve got a great head — 
like a tack.” 


78 


BOB’S HILL TRAILS 


It took quite a while to find sticks with the right 
kind of crotches to fit under Skinny’s arms but 
we did find some at last and cut them off the right 
length. They were not very good ones and hurt 
his arms but he could use them, with a boy on each 
side to balance him. 

After that it was easier, for Skinny would hobble 
along on his crutches awhile; then two of us would 
carry him as far as a certain spot we could see down 
the trail; then he would walk again, and then another 
couple would make a chair for him. 

In this way we kept going pretty fast. The trail 
was more level now and we knew that we must have 
reached the bottom of the Hopper. How far it was 
to anywhere, we didn’t know, but we kept going 
and walked miles and miles. As Bill had said, we 
were bound to come out somewhere, sometime, and 
we couldn’t get lost. 

Benny was the first to hear it. He had gone 
on ahead to explore, carrying a big stick. Pretty 
soon he came tearing back up the path. We thought 
he was scared. 

Injuns ! ” yelled Bill, hunting around for a club, 
while Skinny propped himself up against a tree and 
began to imwind his rope. 


HOPPER TRAIL 


79 

“Charge 1” he shouted. “At them, my braves, 
but spare the women and children.” 

As he spoke, he forgot all about his knee and 
started to charge. There was a howl of pain and he 
would have fallen, if two of us hadn’t quickly 
grabbed him. 

“ Hurry,” called Benny. “ We are there.” 

“ Where ? ” I asked. 

“ I thought we were here,” said Bill. 

“ Just the same,” Benny told him, “ I heard a 
cow-bell.” 

We hurried on and pretty soon we. heard it, too. 

Maybe you never were out that way in the Hop- 
per, when it was almost dark and you had begun to 
think you never would get anywhere, and then heard 
the tinkle of a cow-bell, off in the woods. It’s 
music, all right. 

Bill gave a whoop and a yell that set the bell 
ringing in great shape, as the cow started to run, 
but we didn’t care. That cow-bell told us that at 
last we were out of the Hopper, on somebody’s farm. 

Pretty soon we came out into the open and saw 
a corn field; a little beyond was a barn and then 
a house. 

“ Pedro,” said Skinny, “ how would it be for you 


8o BOB’S HILL TRAILS 

and Bill to go up and ask for a drink ? Maybe 

they will give us something to eat.” 

A woman came to the door. She didn’t seem 
very glad to see us but she gave us a drink. 

‘‘ How far is it to Williamstown ? ” I asked. 

Five miles.” 

Bill groaned. How will we do it,” said he, “ and 
Skinny not able to walk.” 

“ Who is Skinny ? ” 

“ He’s our patrol leader,” I told her. We are 
Boy Scouts. He hurt his knee up on the mountain 
and can’t walk. We carried him ’most of the way 
down. He is awful hungry.” 

Why, bless my heart ! ” she cried. Hungry 
and can’t walk ? Bring him here instantly.” 

We hurried back after him. Skinny wanted to 
go on his crutches but Bill said no; it would look 
worse if we carried him. A few minutes later we 
limped up to the door, with Skinny in our chair and 
the other boys trailing behind. 

She gave one look and started for the cellar. 
When she came back, she was bringing a pail of 
milk and a loaf of bread. 

“ Groan for the lady,” whispered Bill, giving 
Skinny a punch. “ Maybe she will bring out some 


HOPPER TRAIL 8i 

pie and take us to Williamstown in an automobile.’^ 
Which was exactly what she did, all but the pie. 

Our folks were almost crazy when we reached 
home, long after dark. Folks are always thinking 
a boy is going to get hurt or something. 


CHAPTER VII 


PICNIC AT PECK’S FALLS 

“ I GUESS you have had all the mountain climbing 
you will want for a long time,” my mother said, a 
few days after our trip to Stony Ledge. 

The boys had come to our house after school one 
afternoon, to talk over some Scout stunts which we 
were going to do on the last day. Our teacher was 
getting up a last-day entertainment and she had 
heard so much about the Boy Scout business that 
she wanted us to do the things, in front of the school 
and the visitors. 

‘‘We’ll not have time for any more climbing 
until vacation comes,” Skinny told her. “ Then we 
are going up on Florida mountain with Mr. Norton. 
The Indians used to go back and forth over that 
mountain and we want to find the old trail, so Mr. 
Norton can mark it down on a map.” 

“ Well, I am glad that he is going with you. If 
he wasn’t, I am afraid you would have to worry 
along without a secretary, or get a new one.” 

82 


PICNIC AT PECK’S FALLS 83 

“ Why, Mother,” I said, what have I done ? ” 

“ I don’t know that you have done anything, but 
I am so deathly afraid that you will I can’t take a 
minute’s comfort while you are off on your wild 
goose chases.” 

Just because I was a little late for supper the 
other night — ” I began. 

But look what happened and what might have 
happened. Gabriel fell into the Hopper and was 
almost killed. It is a mercy that you ever got him 
out alive and that you did not fall in yourself. I 
don’t like such carryings on.” 

“ I only hurt my knee a little,” Skinny told her. 
“ It is almost well now. You see, I had my rope 
along. You are all right when you have a rope. 
It would have been just the same, Mrs. Smith, if 
Mr. Norton had been there. It happened so quickly 
nothing could have stopped me. I couldn’t stop 
myself. All I could do was to hang on to the 
rope.” 

“ It wasn’t my doings, anyhow,” I said. ‘‘ It was 
Skinny’s. All I did was to help pull him out and 
get him home.” 

Father came in just in time to hear what we were 
talking about. 


BOB’S HILL TRAILS 


84 

I am inclined to think that the young man is 
a little reckless with his rope,” he began, “but, 
barring that, I don’t see how the boys could have 
behaved better. They saved Gabriel, and then 
carried him down the mountain, without a whimper. 
I call that good work, and I am proud of them.” 

“ Guess what,” said Benny, getting ready to 
dodge. “ Bill whimpered once. I heard him.” 

“Aw, I didn’t, either,” Bill told him. “When 
did I whimper ? ” 

“ I heard him say, ‘ Great snakes ! I wish I had 
one of Pedro’s mother’s doughnuts ! ’ ‘ They don’t 
make such doughnuts an3rwhere else,’ he whim- 
pered.” 

“ Bless my stars I ” exclaimed Mother, starting 
for the pantry. “ Here these boys are starving for 
doughnuts and I am standing around scolding.” 

“ All the same,” she went on. “ I don’t see how 
boys ever live to grow up.” 

A few minutes later we were all sitting out in the 
yard, eating doughnuts and wishing there were more. 

“Whimper again. Bill,” said Harry. But Bill 
wouldn’t do it. 

“ The meetin’ will come to order,” said Skinny, as 
soon as he could talk. “ Teacher wants us to do 


PICNIC AT PECK’S FALLS 85 
some Scout stunts on Last Day and we told her 
that we would. What shall we do ? If there was 
only a bear or something, I could lasso it.” 

‘‘ Lasso Sadie Jones,” snickered Benny. She is 
a dear. I heard you say so.” 

We all set up a shout at that and Bill stood on 
his hands and hollered. Mother came running out 
to see what the racket was about and then went in 
again, shaking her head. 

“ I never said such a thing,” said Skinny, feeling 
for his handkerchief and finding that he had left it at 
home. But that makes me think of something. 
Let’s give a play and the Scout stunts will be a part 
of it. We can have Sadie and some of the other 
girls in it. Margy, for instance,” looking hard at 
Bill. 

After we had pounded Bill on the back, until it 
made him mad, he went on:. 

“ Let’s do this. Let’s have a picnic on the plat- 
form — a play picnic, I mean — with Sadie and 
Margy and the others there ready to fry a beef- 
steak, only we haven’t got any matches.” 

Boy Scouts always have matches,” Bill objected. 

And then,” Skinny went on, waving pne hand 
for Bill to keep quiet, they will all stand around 


86 


BOB’S HILL TRAILS 


wishing for beefsteak, with delicious gravy dripping 
off it and potatoes baked in the ashes and filled 
with butter, and — ’’ 

“ Skip that part, Skinny,” groaned Andy. You 
make me hungry.” 

‘‘ Then I’ll happen along and one of the girls will 
say, ‘ Have you a match, mister ? ^ 

“And I’ll say, ‘ No, what do you want of a 
match ? ’ 

“ ‘ To make a fire,’ they will tell me, ‘ so we can 
cook this beefsteak. We’d give you some, if we 
had a match.’ 

“ ‘ Shucks ! ’ I say. ‘ You don’t need matches 
for that. Let me show you a thing or two.’ 

“ Then you boys will help me and we’ll build a 
fire without matches, by whirling a stick, the way 
Mr. Norton taught us. Only it mustn’t be any- 
thing more than a tiny blaze, or we might set the 
schoolhouse on fire.” 

The more we thought about it the better the 
scheme seemed. When we told the teacher she said 
it was great and praised us so much that Skinny got 
real chesty. 

Skinny and Bill had to speak pieces, besides being 
in the play and helping in the Scout stunts. Skinny 


PICNIC AT PECK’S FALLS 87 
was to speak first and then, Bill. It gave Skinny 
another idea. 

You sit near the front, Bill,” he said, “ and 
I’ll take along my rope when I go up to speak. 
When I get through Teacher will say, ‘ We’ll now 
listen to a recitation by William Wilson.’ Then I’ll 
lasso you and drag you up on the rostrum, with you 
hanging back all the way. Come on; what do you 
say ? It will be great.” 

“ I say that there is nothing doing,” Bill told him. 
“ It will be all I can do to think of my piece, with- 
out being lassoed. If you have to lasso anybody, 
lasso Teacher; then I won’t have to speak.” 

“ Have you told Sadie about the play ? ” I asked 
Skinny, on the way home from school. 

“ No, not yet. I sort of hate to tell her. Maybe 
she won’t do it.” 

“ We could have it just the same with boys,” I 
told him. 

“ Yes, we could have something but we kind of 
ought to have girls at a picnic, or else it isn’t a 
picnic. It’s something but not a picnic.” 

“ I don’t know why it is,” he went on after a 
moment, “ but girls nowadays are a lot nicer than 
they used to be. They used always to be around 


88 


BOB’S HILL TRAILS 


in the way, when we were little. Don’t you remem- 
ber? Of course, they can’t lasso and things like 
that but they are all right at a picnic.” 

He needn’t have worried about it. When we 
finally told Sadie and the others, they thought it 
would be fine. 

It will take a lot of practice,” Sadie told us, 
because it must be done just right, or it will fall 
flat. I think we ought to have a real picnic at 
Peck’s Falls, and have it right away. There isn’t 
much time. We can practice there and nobody 
will be around to laugh at us when we make mis- 
takes.” 

We had to have several picnics before we could 
work out the play just right. The first one was held 
the very next afternoon, after school. We had a 
good time, only it bothered us some on account of 
the cave. Our cave is a secret and we never let 
anybody know where it is. Sadie wanted to see it, 
and so did Margy. 

We had finished practicing and had eaten our 
supper and were sitting around talking and thinking 
it was almost time to go home. It gets dark early 
in the woods, especially there at the foot of Greylock, 
for the sun goes down behind the high mountains and 


PICNIC AT PECK’S FALLS 89 

Peck’s Falls are in the shadow, when there is still 
sunshine down in the valley. 

“We have heard that you have a perfectly lovely 
cave up here somewhere,” Sadie told Skinny. “ I 
just dote on caves. Don’t you, Margy ? We think 
you might let us see it.” 

“ Oh, do,” said Margy. “ You know. Bill, you 
told me that maybe you would show it to me some- 
time.” 

Harry was sitting next to me when Margy said 
that and I could see that it made him mad. We 
hadn’t thought that Bill would do a thing like that. 

The other girls didn’t say much but they set up 
such a lot of oh-ing and squealing that it made us 
tired. Skinny and Bill didn’t know what to do or 
what to say. They told us afterward they were 
afraid that if we didn’t show them the cave the 
girls wouldn’t take part in the play and that would 
spoil Last Day. I could see Harry getting madder 
and madder. 

“ Pedro,” he whispered, “ when you see me sneak 
off through the bushes, you follow. We have got to 
stop this somehow or the first thing we know those 
two chumps will be showing them the cave. Tell 
Andy and Hank.” 


90 


BOB’S HILL TRAILS 


I whispered to Andy and he to Hank, and pretty 
soon the four of us crawled off into the bushes. We 
circled around until we came up back of where the 
girls were sitting in a bunch; then Harry gave the 
signal and we began. 

Say ! If Bill had been there, it might have 
sounded worse but not much. Next to Bill, Andy is 
the best yeller in the Band, only he never had a fair 
chance before, with Bill around. This time he was 
mad, on account of the cave, and he turned himself 
loose. I never heard more awful screeching, as if he 
was being murdered or something. At the same 
time, Harry crashed around calling for help, and 
Hank and I set up a fearful wailing noise. 

The girls gave a frightened chorus of screams, 
scrambled to their feet and started to run, scattering 
in every direction. I think Skinny and Bill were 
scared at first but they knew in a minute what it 
was and tried to get the girls to stop nmning. One 
after another, they came back again and we crept 
out of the bushes and sat down as if nothing had 
happened. 

Skinny was mad and opened his mouth to say so, 
when he noticed that somebody was missing. 

“ Where is Sadie ? ” he exclaimed. 


PICNIC AT PECK’S FALLS 


91 

We hadn’t any of us missed her before. The girls 
looked around at one another, surprised. 

“ I haven’t seen her since she started to run,” 
said Margy. 

None of the other girls knew where she had 
gone. They had been too busy saving themselves 
to know where anybody else went. 

“ O, Sadie I Sadie-e-e ! ” Margy called. “ Oo-oo, 
Oo-oo, Oo-oo 1 ” 

We listened and then from behind some bushes, 
near where we were standing, we heard a frightened 
voice cry, “ Here I am.” 

We all made a run around the clump of bushes 
and came out into the path which leads to Pulpit 
Rock. 

“ Where are you, Sadie ? ” Margy called again. 

Here,” came the answer. Out on Pulpit 
Rock.” 

We hurried to the edge of the ravine, where it 
drops off into the pool below Peck’s Falls and where 
Pulpit Rock reaches almost to the other side, with a 
narrow ledge back of the pulpit part. There was 
Sadie, half-way across and scared out of her wits, 
for fear of falling. 

She stood facing the pulpit, her arms outstretched. 


BOB’S HILL TRAILS 


92 

trying to hold on to the smooth surface of the rock 
with her fingers. Back of her, straight down, fifty 
feet below and maybe more, was the pool, and 
nothing to keep her from falling but the narrow 
ledge on which she was standing. 

She had run that way, when we first started to 
yell, not knowing where she was going, and then 
she crept out on the ledge to hide. At first she 
didn’t think much about falling but when the yelling 
stopped and she found out who had been doing it, 
she began to grow dizzy. Then she was scared in 
earnest and had a right to be. She didn’t dare look 
down, or speak, hardly. She could only shut her 
eyes and stand with her face to the rock, as we 
found her. 

Some folks are like that. They get dizzy when 
they look down from any high place, where they 
could fall off. It gives me a funny feeling and 
makes the knuckles on my fingers ache, although I 
do it sometimes, of course. 

Skinny was the first to speak. “ Hold on tight, 
Sadie,” he called. We’ll get you back in a 
jiffy.” 

“ I don’t dare look or move,” she shuddered, ‘‘and 
there isn’t anything to hold on to.” 


PICNIC AT PECK’S FALLS 


93 

“I didn’t bring my rope,” he groaned. “You 
never ought to go to a picnic without a rope.” 

Then he began to edge his way carefully out on 
the ledge, facing the rock and talking to Sadie as 
he went along. 

“ You can’t fall, if you don’t look down,” he told 
her. “ Watch the way I do it. I am going to take 
hold of your hand and we’ll go back together.” 

In a minute he was out there, still talking to her 
and trying to get her over being afraid. She grabbed 
his hand and they worked their way back, a 
few inches at a time. We boys do it often and 
even turn and face the falls. It is scary but easy 
enough, if you don’t look down. 

In two minutes more they were back, safe and 
sound, with the girls crowding around and all talk- 
ing at once. 

Harry nudged me and I went one side to find out 
what he wanted. 

“We saved the cave, all right,” said he, with a 
grin. “ They never will think of the cave again.” 


CHAPTER VIII 
LAST DAY OF SCHOOL 

Last day of school gives you a queer feeling, 
almost like Fourth of July, Christmas, or days like 
those. I do not mean the last day before the Holi- 
days, or before the spring vacation. Those vaca- 
tions are all right, only they are not long enough; 
they are just teasers. I mean the real Last Day, at 
the end of the school year, and all summer ahead 
for play. 

You begin to think about it early in May, when 
the woods are filled with wild flowers and the trees 
on the mountains show green. It is hard to study 
then, when all outdoors is calling and beckoning and 
even Teacher looks out of the window, wishing she 
didn’t have to work and that she could get out into 
it, I guess. 

Finally, along in June, comes Last Day. You 
go to school all dressed up, whisper some if you want 
to, with Teacher not caring much, and show off in 
front of your folks and neighbors. They tiptoe in 


94 


LAST DAY OF SCHOOL 


95 

and sit around the sides of the room and on the 
rostrum, or they do in our school, anyhow. 

A buzz goes around when we see who it is. There 
comes Skinny Miller’s mother. ‘‘ Skinny, Skinny,” 
the buzzing says; and Skinny pretends not to hear 
but looks across the room and grins, just the same. 

After a while my folks come in. The boy in the 
seat behind pokes me in the back and everybody 
looks at me, and I can hear Bill whisper, Pedro, 
see who is here,” and I begin to wonder if I’ll for- 
get my piece. 

Then we all go home, carrying our books and 
school things, almost silly with the joy of it, calling 
to this one and that one what we are going to do 
tomorrow. And tomorrow ! And the other to- 
morrows coming ! — more than two months of them, 
with no school to bother, and Bob’s Hill, Peck’s 
Falls, Greylock and the rest looking their best and 
waiting for us. 

We never had a better Last Day than this one, 
when we did our Scout stunts, all dressed up in our 
Scout uniforms and with Mr. Norton, our scout- 
master, looking on and helping. 

But first we spoke pieces and sang, and some of 
the girls played on the piano. There were so many 


96 BOB’S HILL TRAILS 

visitors we had to bring in chairs from another room. 

It made us feel proud. 

Skinny never did better than when he spoke his 
piece. When he shook his fist and shouted, Give 
me liberty or give me death ! ” it was great and 
they all applauded like everything, except Bill 
Wilson. He sat there in his seat, stiff and imcom- 
fortable, with an anxious look on his face. He 
knew that he was to be the next one to speak and 
he was trying to remember his piece. 

“ William Wilson,” said Teacher, reading from a 
paper, after Skinny had taken his seat and the 
room was quiet again. 

Bill, looking scared, stumbled down the aisle to 
the rostrum. He swallowed hard once or twice, then 
began his piece about William Tell, the Swiss patriot, 
who is so glad to see the Alps mountains again that 
he talks to them, just as we boys do to Greylock 
sometimes. 

From where he was standing Bill could see, 
through an open window, Greylock and Peck’s Falls 
woods where our cave is, and almost could look into 
the Bellowspipe. It helped him some, I guess, for 
Last Day meant Vacation, and plenty of good times 
in the cave and among the mountains. 


LAST DAY OF SCHOOL 


97 

“Ye crags and peaks, I’m with you once again,” 
he began, and went on in a loud voice, without a 
break, until he was almost half through. 

“ Ye guards of liberty,” he shouted, looking 
through the window at Greylock and Bob’s Hill, 
“ I’m with you once again. I call to you with all my 
voice. I hold my hands to you — ” 

Just then Skinny caught his eye and made a 
motion, as if he was throwing a lasso and pulling 
him down off the rostrum. Teacher didn’t see it 
but Bill did. He stammered, stopped, then tried to 
go on but couldn’t think of what, came next. 

“ With all my voice,” he repeated, going back a 
little to where he could remember. “I hold my 
hands — ^my hands — I — I hold my hands to you — ” 

Bill was stuck. Skinny looked a little scared 
when he saw what he had done. It made us all 
squirm. I don’t know why it is but it is that way 
almost always when somebody gets stuck. 

Bill’s face was growing redder and redder. He 
swallowed hard again, then went back for a running 
start. 

“ Ye guards of liberty, I’m with you once again. 
I call to you with all my voice. I hold my hands 
to you — I — I hold my hands to you, t-t-to — ” 


98 BOB’S HILL TRAILS 

He looked around in despair. Then came in a 
low, soft voice, from down near the front, 

“ To show they still are free.” 

It was Margy. She had heard Bill say his piece 
so much at our picnics that she knew it herself. I 
don’t see how she dared to do it but she did. 

That saved Bill. 

I hold my hands to you,” he shouted, “ to show 
they still are free.” 

He reached out his arms toward Greylock but 
he was thankful in his heart to Margy. Then, with 
a smile and stepping forward toward the edge of the 
rostrum, he went on with the next line, 

“ I rush to you as if I would embrace you.” 

William Tell was thinking of the mountains when 
he said it but Bill was holding out his hands toward 
Margy, thinking, I guess, how glad he was that she 
had saved him. 

It pretty nearly broke up Last Day. Even 
Teacher laughed, and Margy blushed like sixty. 
But Bill didn’t care. He went on with his piece in 
great shape, only he didn’t dare look at Skinny 
again. When he had finished there came the 
loudest clapping of all. 

“ Next we are going to show some of the activities 


LAST DAY OF SCHOOL 


99 

of the Boy Scouts/’ said Teacher, finally. “We 
have a number of Scouts in this room. But first 
their scoutmaster has consented to explain to us, in 
a few words, what this Boy Scout movement means.” 

“ The boys of today,” began Mr. Norton, “ will 
be the men of tomorrow. The Boy Scout move- 
ment is merely a program for their proper develop- 
ment, in a natural way. We want those men of 
tomorrow to be the right kind of men and we start 
by making the boys of today the right kind of boys. 

“ Fifty-seven countries, representing more than a 
billion and a half of people, nearly all the people in 
the world, have adopted the Scout program. In the 
United States we have more than a third of a 
million Boy Scouts, and would have many more but 
for the difficulty in getting scoutmasters. Holding 
hands, with arms outstretched, these American Boy 
Scouts could reach almost across the continent, from 
the Atlantic to the Pacific. 

“ Our Scout motto is, ‘ Be Prepared.’ We aim 
to prepare a boy to take care of himself at all times 
and under all circumstances. We teach him to be 
self-reliant, brave, helpful, thrifty, kind, depend- 
able, etc., — in short, to become the best type of 
American citizen. It is all fun for the boy, the 


100 


BOB’S HILL TRAILS 


things he best loves to do. In doing them he learns 
to keep himself ‘ physically strong, mentally awake 
and morally straight,’ as the Scout oath puts it. He 
gets a fine physical training in the great and beauti- 
ful out-of-doors, and the foundations of his char- 
acter are built strong. The ability of a Scout to 
take care of himself will be illustrated briefly in 
some acts and dialogues which are to follow.” 

First we had a knot-tying contest between two of 
the boys. Each one tied a half dozen knots in a 
small rope, holding them up for the school to see, 
while Mr. Norton explained what each knot was 
called and how it was used. 

“The boys now will give an exhibition of flag 
signaling, using what is called the Two-arm Sema- 
phore code,” said Mr. Norton. “ By this system 
messages can be sent as far as one can see the flags 
distinctly, not often more than a mile. Here are 
the flags we use. You will notice that they are 
about eighteen inches square and are divided diagon- 
ally into two parts, one red and the other white. 

“ The letters of the alphabet are indicated by the 
position of the arms, flags being used merely as 
extensions of the arms, to make them more easily 
seen. For example, to indicate the letters from A 


LAST DAY OF SCHOOL 


lOI 


to D the left hand holds a flag just above the knees 
and the right arm is moved upward. Half way to 
a horizontal position, means A; horizontal, B; half- 
way to a vertical position, C; straight over the 
head, D. To show the letters from E to G, these 
positions are reversed, the right arm being held 
down and the left arm moved upward. Other posi- 
tions indicate other letters. In this way words and 
messages can be spelled out. It is very simple but 
requires accuracy in sending and a quick eye in 
receiving. 

“ I am going to ask Harry to do the signaling and 
to send the message, ‘ Break camp at sunrise.^ 
One of my Scouts is in the room below and we’ll 
send for him to take the message. He has very 
quick eyes and, of course, does not know what mes- 
sage we have decided upon. Will the young man 
who called with all his voice go after Benny Wade? ” 

In a minute Benny came in with Bill, carrying 
two more flags. He was sent to the back of the 
room, while Harry went up on the rostrum. 

“ Just imagine that the boys are a mile apart and 
that it is necessary to get the message across without 
loss of time. All ready, boys. Send.” 

It was like a three-ring circus. The folks didn’t 


102 


BOB’S HILL TRAILS 


know where to look, whether at Benny or Harry or 
at the other Scouts sitting there and spelling out the 
words with their lips. But Benny knew. He 
watched every move that Harry made and as soon 
as the message had been finished he held out both 
his flags horizontally, one in each hand, and waved 
them up and down, until Harry replied with the 
same signal. It meant that he had understood. 

“ Well, Benny, what was the message ? ” Mr. 
Norton asked. 

“ Break camp at sunrise,’’ Benny told him, and 
everybody clapped. 

Now, I’ll ask Benny and the other Scouts to 
come up on the platform.” 

Benny was the last one up, having the farthest 
to go, and just as he reached the top step he stum- 
bled' and fell. All the visitors had been watching 
him and when he fell and didn’t get up, we could 
hear some of them say, Oh,” under their breath. 
Skinny ran to help him; then turned to us. 

“ He has broken his ankle,” he said. “ Quick ! 
Find something which we can use for splints.” 

• Someone handed him a couple of shingles. Plac- 
ing one on each side of the break. Skinny bound 
them tight in place with handkerchiefs. 


LAST DAY OF SCHOOL 103 
Make a stretcher,” he called, when he nearly 
had finished. 

Andy rushed out into the hall and came back with 
two poles, almost as soon as Hank and I could get 
our coats off. We turned the sleeves wrong side 
out and then laid the coats down on the floor, with 
their lower edges touching each other. The poles 
were pushed through the sleeves, one on each side, 
and the coats were buttoned, with the button side 
down. Then Benny was laid on the stretcher care- 
fully and two of the boys carried him out of the 
room. 

I shouldn't wonder if some of the visitors thought 
Benny really had been hurt, for when he came back 
with the other boys, a minute later, and didn’t even 
limp, they seemed tickled about it. 

“ This little act has shown one meaning of our 
Scout motto,” Mr. Norton told them. “ Boy Scouts 
are prepared for all sorts of emergencies and acci- 
dents, particularly to rescue their comrades in cases 
of drowning.” 

The last act was best of all. The door from the 
hall opened and in came Sadie, Margy and some of 
the other girls, carrying baskets. They went up on 
the platform and started to have a picnic. 


104 


BOB’S HILL TRAILS 


My ! I am hungry,” said Margy, after a while. 
“ Hurry up, girls, and get a fire going. I’ll cook 
you the best beefsteak you ever ate.” 

Then Sadie gave a little squeal. I have for- 
gotten the matches,” she said. What shall we 
do?” 

Just as she said that the door opened again and 
Skinny, followed by the other Scouts, walked in 
and up on the rostrum. 

Oh, mister,” said Sadie, when she saw Skinny 
coming. “ Will you let us have a match ? ” 

‘‘ I haven’t any match,” he told her. “ What do 
you want of a match ? ” 

“ We want to build a fire, so that we can cook our 
beefsteak. We are having a picnic. If you only 
had a match, we could give you some of the best 
beefsteak you ever tasted.” 

Beefsteak sounds good to us,” said Skinny. 
“ We can build you a fire without matches. Can’t 
we, fellers — I mean, fellows ? ” 

After some more talk, we built the fire, just as 
Boy Scouts are taught to do, without using matches. 
Of course, we had everything ready, out in the hall. 
We had seen to that the night before. We even 
had a piece of zinc, such as is put under stoves in 


LAST DAY OF SCHOOL 105 

winter, and we built the fire on that, so that there 
would be no danger of burning the schoolhouse. 

First we put a flat piece of wood down on the 
zinc. It was about three-fourths of an inch thick. 
That was our hearth, or fire-board. Next we needed 
a bow and spindle. The spindle was a piece of wood, 
which we had whittled out, about a foot long and 
three-fourths of an inch thick, at the middle. The 
ends had been rounded off but the middle part had 
been left with all kinds of corners. 

The bow was a curved stick, about seventeen 
inches long. It can be longer. It was five-eighths 
of an inch wide and a half-inch thick. In the ends 
were holes for the cord, which was a leather thong. 
This cord was put on loose enough so that it could 
be wound once around the spindle. The roughness 
of the spindle was to keep the cord from slipping. 

“ We want a drill-socket,” said Skinny. 

One of the boys brought him a hemlock knot and 
he cut a little hole in the middle of it, for the end 
of the spirile to turn in. Then he cut a notch in 
the edge of the fire-board, a quarter-inch wide and 
a half-inch deep, and on top of the fire-board, just 
beyond the notch, he made a little pit with the point 
of his knife. 


io6 BOB’S HILL TRAILS 

“ Now, watch, girls, and we’ll show you how to 
do it.” 

While one of the boys brought some punk, which 
had been scraped from a piece of dry pine, and set 
it down beside the fire-board, on a strip of dry bark, 
Skinny started his bow-drill. The spindle was held 
up straight, one end in the little hole which had been 
made in the fire-board and the other end in the hem- 
lock knot. The hole in the knot had been soaped 
to make it slippery. 

Standing with one foot on the fire-board, to hold 
it firm, and bearing down on the hemlock knot with 
his left hand, Skinny began to saw back and forth 
with the bow, the cord having been wound once 
around the spindle. That whirled the spindle and 
drilled the hole in the fire-board deeper. After a 
while the wood began to smoke and a dry powder 
which the whirling drill had worn off began to push 
out through the slot in the edge of the fire-board. 

Bill, who had been watching for that, fanned it 
with his hand, until it glowed with fire; then lifted 
it to the punk, folded the strip of bark over it and 
waved it gently in the air, and soon it burst into 
flame. 

Now bring on your beefsteak,” said Skinny, as 


LAST DAY OF SCHOOL 107 

the delighted girls gathered around and the visitors 
clapped their hands. 

“ On second thought,” the teacher told us, “ it 
will be better to postpone the beefsteak part until 
we get home. The exercises will close with a song 
by the entire school.” 


CHAPTER IX 
THE SIGN OF K 

The Sign said to meet in the cave at four o^clock. 
We found it chalked up all over town, one morn- 
ing, — on our sidewalk, on the bridge, and in a lot 
of places. 

As soon as I saw it in front of our house, I went 
over to Benny^s to tell him about it. He had just 
found one on his sidewalk and his mother was mak- 
ing him scrub it off. 

It doesnT seem right,” he told me, to rub out 
the Sign but Idl catch it if I donT.” 

Just then we spied something white on the big 
tree. The big tree, as you probably know if you 
have read about the doings of the Band, stood in 
front of Marsh’s yard, next to Benny Wade’s on 
the north. It was a big one, all right, an elm. 
Benny and I together could not reach around it and 
its branches spread out almost to the other side of 
Park street. There was a hollow place in the tree, 
where you could put your hand in a hole, maybe 
zo8 


THE SIGN OF K 


109 

two feet deep. That hole in the tree was our 
secret postoffice, when we didn’t want anybody to 
know what we were doing. 

Benny and I ran over to the tree to see what the 
white thing was and found a sheet of paper tacked 
to the bark. On the paper was our Bandit Sign. 
The coffin in the center looked fierce. 

Benny glanced up and down the street; there 
wasn’t anybody in sight. Then, motioning for me 
to stand close behind him to keep the folks from 
seeing, if they should be looking out of some window, 
he reached one arm down into the hole and felt 
around. 

“ It’s there, Pedro,” he said, after a moment. 

When he drew his arm out he held another sheet 
of paper in his hand. I made a grab for it but he 
snatched it away. 

“ Not here,” said he. “ They will see us. There 
is somebody coming down the street.” 

We ran into the yard and down to the barn, where 
we felt safe. On the paper, when we looked, we 
found another Sign, in black ink, and under the 
Sign were a big letter B and the word, “ ware then 
B. H. K. in red ink, with blots of ink dripping 
down like blood. 


1 10 


BOB’S HILL TRAILS 


“ What’s B. H. K ? ” said Benny. 

“ Search me,” I told him, “ but it is something, 
and don’t you forget it. Bold and Husky Knights, 
I guess.” 

Vacation time had come. School had let out some 
days before and we had the whole summer for play 
except when we had to work, and nobody had 
thought of anything big to do. Mr. Norton had 
told us to leave it to Skinny but even he had failed. 
Of course, we could think of plenty of fun — base 
ball, fishing, swimming and things like that — but 
I mean something big. 

“ It’s going to be a whale of a meeting,” I said, 
“ there are so many Signs. I never saw so many. 
I’ll bet they are all over town.” 

We hardly could wait until half past three, when 
it would be time to start. Benny came over to our 
house before three o’clock and we played catch in 
the back yard until it was time to go. 

Is the woodbox full, Pedro ? ” he asked, anx- 
iously, just as we were starting to climb the wall back 
of our garden, up into Blackinton’s orchard. 

Running over the top,” I told him. I wasn’t 
going to take any chances of being called back.” 

We were the first ones at the cave but pretty soon 


THE SIGN OF K 


111 


Bill came, and then all the others in a bunch except 
Skinny. We didn’t think anything of that at first, 
because you never can tell what Skinny is going to 
do. But when it was almost four o’clock we 
couldn’t understand it. 

“ What is the meeting for ? ” somebody asked. 

Nobody knew. All we knew was the Sign and 
that Skinny was late. 

“ It’s one minute to four,” said Bill, looking at 
his watch. “ Skinny always makes a fuss when we 
are late. Let’s take him out and duck him in the 
pool when he comes.” 

Before we could answer, we heard a wailing 
scream outside, faint-like, because it wasn’t easy to 
hear in the cave, but we all heard it. 

We scrambled through the opening, Bill being the 
first one out. I was right behind and heard him 
say, “ Great snakes ! ” Then I saw what he was 
looking at. 

At the top of the ravine, across from the cave, a 
sort of rocky shoulder stands out from the trees, in 
plain sight from the hole where we go in. There on 
that shoulder, with its arms folded, stood something, 
we didn’t know what. It had on a black robe and 
a hat with a high peak, and its face was covered 


1 12 BOB’S HILL TRAILS 

with a black mask, with places cut out for its eyes 

and nose. 

As we looked at it in wonder, huddled close to- 
gether at the entrance, the Thing raised one arm 
and pointed to the sky. 

“ Caesar’s ghost ! ” exclaimed Andy. What 
is it ? ” 

“ Watch me hit it with a rock,” muttered Bill. 

He stooped and picked up a heavy, round stone 
out of the brook, took aim and began to draw back 
his arm. Before he could throw, the Thing tore the 
mask off its face and yelled, 

Don’t be scared, fellers, it’s only me.” 

That is who it was. We had kind of thought it 
might be Skinny but you never can tell. A minute 
later he crawled into the cave, with the rest of us, 
and took off his robes. It was exactly four o’clock. 

“ The meetin’ will come to order,” he said. 

“ I’ve thought of it,” he told us, a little later. 
“ It’s something big, all right. Let’s dress up in 
robes and hats like mine and go aroimd with masks 
on, doing good deeds. We can call ourselves the 
‘ B. H. K.’ ” 

What’s that ? ” asked Bill. “ Bad and Homely 
Kids ? ” 



The Thing Raised One Arm and Pointed to the Sky. 






V' 




f 

* 






" v^ t . . 





\\ 


V 

<:i^X 


» 


^ r 


■t,- 




‘ I.’ .J 4 * i; 

AV'' / 





,’. j 




k n 


4 * w' 





B i, ■ 

5C *' *'j 


i’ • 'Cirife . • 

■■ ■^'■'^^'' i ■• {>■<'■ i 

• ^ i ' * . ^ 


f 1 


Jin 







ki^ 

.1 


I 


il 


V 

kf ^ 



/Jifr- ' '* '• <'• 




4 ^ . . 


♦N 




ffm ■ '".'■ 

.-V - I ' 


id. ^ 



V 



' ‘ • ■»: 


? 


I '■• ’ 


T ^ ' % 


t - 



..4^ ^ ^ , 





• • 


K_\ ♦. 


«>»;■* 

* . » 


.,J 






Y’' 




^ _ ,d7 ^ , 

'''i' '' *» ■ * ‘ V ^ 

f .' ^S * ^ ^ .*2 r _ 



7 * * ’ 

*-i* 


h * 


k 


I ' d 

f V*- 


’ 


* 


/ 


M 




# 


#i ) 


r> 




i ) 


TTv . «. » 


.t» 




• 1 


•«»• f 


J 

•A 




-I''-*'! * 

JW-,^ • < - A-'^l' * 

• J • '^1 


’: ; ■■ -^ ^“aT '55 

1 

* -4 ' ■'■ * 

'• . 1." 

, ■ " , • . . ■,..■■* it,". .At. 

% V • »i. 

%4 ■ 

•% 


.•<•'. Y^rw: 

.., V l>:A ; ■' , 

^ -V ♦♦ 

1 '■ ■ ■ *' ^ . , , 

4 * * Pift ' ' I ^ 

' * Y. iv 4 . ifl V ’-*' ' h ' 











' r. *• :YY- 


t i 



«k ^ 


THE SIGN OF K 


”3 

“ Bad and homely nothin^ ! B. H. stands for 
Bob^s Hill, doesn’t it ? B. H. K. means Bob’s Hill 
Klan.” 

“ Clan begins with C,” Hank told him. 

“ Betcher life, this one doesn’t. It begins with K, 
and a big one.” 

“ It would scare folks,” objected Harry. 
“ Skinny is bad enough but to have eight of us 
looking like Skinny did with his robes on, would 
scare folks half to death.” 

“ Well, we can’t help that, can we ? They would 
get over it, I guess. Come on, fellers, it will be 
great. We can have a secret grip and a pass- word 
and things like that. Nobody will know who are 
doing the deeds, because we’ll be wearing our robes 
and masks.” 

“What would be the fun in doing anything, if 
folks couldn’t know about it ? ” asked Harry. 

“ I’m for it, anyhow,” he went on quickly, for 
Skinny was looking at him fierce. “ I have thought 
of a good grip, already.” 

“ And I have thought of a motto,” Skinny went 
on. “ In order to join we’ll have to swear ‘ to right 
all wrongs, protect the weak, and do good.’ What 
do you say, fellers ? ” 


1 14 BOB’S HILL TRAILS 

It sounded all right to us, almost like our Scout 
Law which says that a Scout must be helpful, only 
it doesn’t say anything about wearing robes and 
masks while doing it. Bill told us that if we should 
try to right all wrongs there wouldn’t be time 
enough left to practice for the ball game but he was 
for it, just the same. 

“ Guess what,” said Benny. “ K stands for cave, 
just as much as it does for clan. That makes it all 
the better.” 

We had to have several more meetings before we 
finally worked it all out and elected officers. We 
made Skinny the head one in it. He was captain of 
the Band, anyhow, and leader of the patrol ; besides 
he thought of it. We called him Supreme and 
Mighty Potentate,” or S. M. P., for short. I was 
K. S. R., Keeper of the Secret Records. We didn’t 
know what to call Bill, but Skinny said he could be 
the Factor Factotum Inkibus. 

“ But what is it, old Simp ? ” asked Bill. 

“ It’s the biggest thing we’ve got. It will be up 
to you to keep your eyes peeled and tell us about 
the wrongs to be righted, the weak to be protected 
and the good deeds to be done.” 

“ Great snakes ! ” said Bill. “ I see my finish.” 


THE SIGN OF K 


115 

“ Where do you get that ^ Simp ^ stuff ? ” Skinny 
went on. I’ll put a head on the first feller that 
calls me Simp.” 

“ That is what you said,” Bill told him, “ S. M. P.” 

That is why Skinny changed his title to Most 
High and Mighty Potentate — M. H. M. P. He 
said it sounded bigger. 

I am not going to tell about our grip and pass- 
word and things like that. They are secrets. 

“ I can think of one good deed, right off the bat,” 
Bill told us, after we had talked a long time. The 
Factor Factotum Inkibus needs food. Let’s go 
home and eat.” 

The hardest part about the B. H. K. business was 
getting robes and hats, on the quiet. We couldn’t 
seem to do it, without telling our folks. I rum- 
maged around in the attic a long time, trying to 
find some old stuff that I could use. 

Everything seemed to be there except what I 
wanted. As fast as I had looked at one thing or 
into some box or trunk, I put it back out of the 
way, so that I needn’t paw it over again. When I 
finally had gone through everything without finding 
what I was after, the old attic was in better shape 
than it had been in a long time. 


ii6 BOB’S HILL TRAILS 

Mother couldn’t understand it. She looked at me 
funny-like when I came down. 

“ Why ad this industry ? ” she asked. “ You are 
not sick, John, are you ? ” 

“ I was seeing what I could find,” I told her. I 
didn’t want to say anything more because Skinny 
had told us to keep the Klan business a secret, even 
from our folks. 

What were you trying to find ? ” 

I knew I’d have to tell her before she would let 
up and that it might as well be first as last. 

“ It is a secret,” I said, “ but I’ll tell you if you 
will promise not to say anything about it.” 

“ I never have seen an attic yet that didn’t con- 
tain at least one secret,” she laughed. “ I am sur- 
prised that you couldn’t find it. Anyhow, I’ll 
promise. That is, if it should be all right not to 
say anything.” 

Then I told her about the B. H. K. and our going 
around to right wrongs and do good deeds, and 
when she seemed real interested I asked her to fix 
me up with a robe and hat. 

One could do good deeds without a robe,” she 
said, “ but I will make you one, just the same, and 
ril keep the secret ” 


THE SIGN OF K 


117 

“ We’ll use Pedro’s bam,” Skinny decided, at one 
of our meetings. “ It is almost in the center of 
town and close to everything. We can keep our 
robes there. That can be our meeting place, when 
we start out to do some good deed. The cave is too 
far away. Only we’ll need another Sign. A circle 
means to meet at the cave. Pedro, think up a Sign 
that means your barn.” 

“ We don’t need any barn Sign,” I told him. “ All 
we need is the day of the month and the hour of 
the meeting, and the letter K. That is Sign enough. 
When we see that we’ll know there is to be a meeting 
at our barn. Any time we want to meet at the cave 
instead of our barn, all we’ll have to do will be to 
draw a circle around it and that will mean the cave.” 

“ The Keeper of the Secret Records has a great 
head,” said Skinny. “ Only we’ll have to have some 
blood dripping down.” 

That is what we decided to do — the Sign part, I 
mean, not the blood. We met in the barn that very 
evening, each of us bringing his robe and hat. 
Mother came out, when she found what was going 
on and helped us get into our things. 

You are a fearful looking sight,” said she, when 
she had finished and we all stood in a row, with 


ii8 BOB’S HILL TRAILS 

peaked hats, black robes and black masks on. “ I’d 

hate to meet you alone after dark.” 

‘‘What is the first good deed you are going to 
do ? ” she asked. “ That is, if it is not too much 
of a secret.” 

“We are going over to scare Mr. Norton,” Skinny 
told her. 

“That doesn’t appeal to me as a good deed 
exactly,” she laughed, “ but I can stand it if he can. 
See that you don’t land in the lock-up.” 

It was getting dark when we started out and up 
the street, carrying our robes under our arms. 

“ Keep your eyes peeled. Bill,” whispered Skinny, 
“ and if you see any wrongs to be righted, sing out.” 

“ I hope he has ice cream,” said Bill. “ I could 
right that in two jerks of a lamb’s tail.” 

We reached Mr. Norton’s home without anything 
happening; then put on our robes and masks and 
rang the bell. He came to the door himself and 
stood there speechless when he saw the B. H. K. He 
was one surprised scoutmaster. 

At a motion from Skinny, we all groaned and 
pointed at him; then said “ Beware ! ” 

“ Bless my soul ! ” exclaimed Mr. Norton. 
“ Somebody must have left the gate open.” 


THE SIGN OF K 


119 

Skinny motioned again. Prepare to meet thy 
doom,” we growled, making our voices as deep as 
we could. 

“ Come inside,” said he. I^d rather meet it in 
the parlor than any other place I know, unless it is 
the dining room.” 

“ That is fine, fellows,” he told us, after he had 
heard about the Klan business. You will be able 
to do a lot of good and have fun doing it. I think 
you will find that in making others happy you will 
be very happy yourselves. That is the way it 
usually works out. Who thought of it ? ” 

“ There is no need to ask,” he laughed, for Skinny 
was beginning to get real chesty. “ I told you that 
Skinny would be able to think of something, if you 
would give him time. Bill, what did you say you 
were, the what-ibus ? ” 

“ Inkibus. Factor Factotum Inkibus.” 

He gave a long, low whistle. You astonish me. 
I haven^t any title but perhaps I may be able to 
help you a little. I have something in mind now 
but want to look into it a little farther before I say 
anything about it. Perhaps Mr. Inkibus will drop 
into my office tomorrow morning.” 


CHAPTER X 
ROBED IN BLACK 

We had a late dinner the next day. It was half 
past twelve o^clock before we sat down. My place 
at the table faces one of the windows which look 
out upon Phillips’ driveway. 

Before we had finished eating, I saw an eye 
peeking in at one corner of the bottom pane, to- 
ward the street. As I stared at it, the eye winked 
and another eye appeared ' at the corner of the 
opposite pane, toward Phillips’ barn. Then a hand 
was waved slowly up and down, with the fingers in 
a certain position, which only those who belong to 
the B. H. K. know about. If I put down what it 
was some member of the Gingham Ground Gang 
might see it and spoil everything. 

“ John,” said my mother, “ what in the world are 
you staring at ? Why don’t you eat your dinner ? ” 

Before I could answer there came three low 
whistles, not like any whistling you ever heard. I 
can’t tell about that either, for it’s a secret, but I 
120 


4 


ROBED IN BLACK 


I2I 


knew what it was, all right. It was the signal of 
the Klan. When we hear that, we have to leave 
whatever we are doing and follow, “ even to the 
ends of the earth,’’ Skinny says, but, of course, the 
earth can’t have any ends, being round. 

The Keeper of the Secret Records looked 
hungrily at the pie; then started for the door. 

“ John Alexander,” said my mother, ‘‘ come back 
here this minute and finish your dinner. I haven’t 
heard anybody excuse you.” 

It is hard for a fellow to know What to do at times 
like that but she had put the Alexander part in, so 
it seemed best to go back to my seat. Then it came 
again — the signal. Mother heard it that time. 

“ Is it — ” she began. 

“ Sh-h,” I warned her, putting my fingers to my 
lips. “ Hadn’t I better go and see what it is ? ” 

“Well, maybe you’d better,” said she, “and in 
case you should find some poor, hungry orphan out 
there, you might take along a couple of those dough- 
nuts.” 

At the back door, on the edge of the garden, 
stood the Most High and Mighty Potentate and the 
Factor Factotum Inkibus. 

^'We are going to have a meetinV^ whispered 


122 BOB’S HILL TRAILS 

Skinny. The others will be here in a few 

minutes.” 

“ Go on out to the barn,” I told him. I’ll 
finish my dinner in a jiffy.” 

“ Was it an orphan ? ” asked Mother, when I 
went in without the doughnuts. 

I don’t know about the orphan part,” I said, 
“ but it was hungry and it was twins.” 

The meetin’ will come to order,” shouted Skinny, 
a little later. “ The F. F. I. has a message for us.” 

“ I saw Mr. Norton this morning, like he told me 
to,” Bill began, and what do you think ? Old 
Ezra Bowen fell and broke his leg yesterday. Mr. 
Norton says that his hay crop will be ruined, if it 
gets wet. There is a rain coming and nobody to 
put in the hay.” 

“ Here’s a chance for the B. H. K., fellers,” added 
Skinny. Let’s get in his hay for him.” 

He hollered at me once when I was going through 
his yard,” objected Hank. 

“ What if he did ? I’ll bet you were hooking his 
apples.” 

I wasn’t, either. I only took one. It wasn’t 
ripe enough to eat, anyhow.” 

In going up over Bob’s Hill to Peck’s Falls, we 


ROBED IN BLACK 


123 

have to cross one end of Ezra Bowen^s farm, and 
sometimes he doesn’t like it very well; but we can’t 
help it. We can’t jump across, can we ? Besides, 
Peck’s brook, after it gets through falling, flows 
down through his farm, at the bottom of a rocky 
ravine. It is the place where Skinny tracked a bear 
one winter, only it turned out to be Jake Yost with 
his boots on his feet wrong, instead of a bear. The 
tracks looked like bear tracks, just the same — but 
I told about that once in the doings of the Band. 
That ravine is a good place to play in and you can’t 
get to it from Bob’s Hill, without climbing a stone 
wall and walking across the farm. 

“ You told me to keep my eyes peeled for wrongs 
to be righted and good deeds to be done,” said Bill, 
and here is a chance to do both. You fellows have 
hooked Mr. Bowen’s apples; you know you have. 
That’s a wrong to be righted, isn’t it ? Now he 
has fallen and broken his leg and can’t get in his 
hay. That’s a good deed to be done. That hay is 
going in, if Skinny and I have to put it in alone. 
Mr. Bowen is worrying himself sick over it; Mr. 
Norton says so.” 

That settled it. When Skinny and Bill both are 
for a thing, you may as well give in, first as last 


BOB’S HILL TRAILS 


124 

The more we thought about it, the more we wanted 
to do it, but how to do it, without the folks finding 
it out, was a hard one. 

“ We can sneak up through the orchard,” said 
Harry, and put our robes on in Plunkett’s woods. 
Folks will think we are going up to Peck’s Falls.” 

“ Let’s do it at night,” said Skinny. Our robes 
and masks would look fierce after dark.” 

We decided to meet that very night, after the 
moon had come up. Before that it would be too 
dark. 

I went to bed with my clothes on that night, 
except my shoes, of course, and was so excited I 
hardly could sleep. The moon had come up at nine 
o’clock, the night before, so we knew it would rise 
about ten. By eleven it would be shining bright, 
making the fields almost as light as day beyond 
Bob’s Hill, away from the trees. 

When the clock in the Baptist church steeple 
struck eleven, I slid out of bed and, grabbing my 
shoes, crept to the stairs. Skinny had wanted to 
throw his rope up through the window for me to 
slide down but I was afraid he would wake up the 
folks. 

I slid down the banisters instead, the stairs 


ROBED IN BLACK 


125 

being so creaky; then tiptoed through the hall and 
carefully opened the door, on to the back stoop. 

There was no sound except somebody snoring, 
and I knew that I was safe. In another moment 
I was out by the barn. The other boys soon came, 
one after another, until all were there. 

A few minutes later eight figures, robed in black 
and wearing peaked hats and black masks, climbed 
the stone wall back of our garden into Blackinton’s 
orchard and silently went up through the night to 
the top of Bob^s Hill. 

There we stood for a few minutes and looked 
around. It was the queerest sight I ever saw. 
Skinny and the others, in their black robes and 
masks, armed with pitchforks, there on top of 
Bob^s Hill. I’d have been scared, if I had not 
known who they were. As it was, it gave me a 
creepy feeling, and I knew that I must look the same 
way to them. 

To the left and a little farther on, was a dark 
blotch, which we knew was Plunkett’s woods. Be- 
yond, old Greylock lifted up his great shoulders 
through the moonlight, looking kind of dim and far 
away but seeming to beckon to us, just the same. 

On we marched, making hardly a sound. Nobody 


126 


BOB’S HILL TRAILS 


felt like saying anything, for it was quiet up there 
in the night, when everybody else was asleep — 
quiet and scary. We didn’t stop again, until we had 
reached Mr. Bowen’s barn. 

“ I hope he hasn’t a dog, or anything,” whis- 
pered Benny, anxiously. 

“ He hasn’t,” Skinny told him. “ Bill and I came 
up this afternoon to look things over. There is the 
wagon, and the horses are in that shed. We are so 
far from the house I don’t believe they will hear us, 
if we are quiet.” 

It took quite a while to hitch up the team but at 
last we drove out into the hay field, where the hay 
had been raked up into little piles, which gave out 
a sweet smell when we lifted great forkfuls up on 
the wagon, just as we had seen the men do a lot of 
times. 

Nobody need ever tell us that farming is easy. 
All through the night we worked — in our robes 
at first and then without them. Soon we began 
to peel off one thing after another, until there wasn’t 
much left. 

“ Great snakes ! ” groaned Bill. “ There are a 
million tons; I ’most know there are.” 

But loading the wagon was a picnic, compared 


f 







“Gee, Fellers, It’s the Cemetery!” 


ROBED IN BLACK 127 ' 

with unloading the hay through the barn door into 
the mow. It was dark in there except at the very 
door and we didn^t dare have a light, for fear it 
would be seen from the house. And hot ? Say ! If 
you never mowed away hay in a barn, on a hot 
night, you don’t know anything about it. 

I don’t know how we ever could have done it, if 
we hadn’t stopped to rest after each load and 
bathe our arms and faces in the cool water of 
Peck’s brook, where it pours through the ravine. 
After one of those times Skinny gave each of us a 
sandwich which he had brought from home. I 
thought he had looked bigger than usual under his 
robe. Nobody else had brought anything to eat. 
Those sandwiches tasted like more. 

“ How about some green apples ? ” asked Hank, 
gazing wistfully toward the orchard. “ They would 
be better than nothing.” 

We all looked at the Most High and Mighty Po- 
tentate. 

“ Fellers,” said he. This ’ere Klan is to right 
all wrongs, and it is wrong to go hungry; betcher 
life ! ” 

We were through at last, and the horses were back 
in the barn. It had been thundering for some time 


128 BOB’S HILL TRAILS 

and we knew that the expected rain was coming 
soon, although the moon still was shining and we 
could see. 

Then, as we turned to go, the wind arose, and, 
all of a sudden, the moon was blotted out and we 
were left there in pitch darkness. It was lucky that 
it hadn’t happened before, for we should have had to 
stop work and let the hay spoil. 

We decided to go home by the road, instead 
of crossing the fields to Bob’s Hill. Skinny said 
that it would be easier finding our way and it 
wouldn’t be so lonesome in the dark, on account of 
the houses. But he forgot the cemetery, and so 
did all of us; we were too tired to think of any- 
thing. 

The West road runs north and south past the 
Bowen farm and close to Peck’s Falls woods. Near 
the old Quaker Meeting House, a street from the 
village, turning off from Park street toward the 
west, runs into the West road, while the West road 
itself goes on toward the north and up through what 
is called the Notch. The Notch is a high valley 
between two mountain ridges, like a big notch cut 
there. If you ever are in that part of the country, 
you ought to ride up through it. It’s great. 


ROBED IN BLACK 


129 

The cemetery extends clear to the West road, and 
the old Quaker Meeting House stands, with boarded 
windows, at the west end. That is the oldest part 
of the cemetery, so old that many of the graves are 
not marked and you can^t tell where they are. It 
dates back to the days of the Revolution, I guess. 

We had reached the corner and turned east to- 
ward the village, before we thought of the cemetery, 
and we didnT think of it then, at first. It was too 
dark to see much. Just then we heard somebody 
hurrying down the road, sort of singing to himself. 

“ Great snakes 1 ” said Bill. Here comes some 
guy and hedl give the whole thing away. Don’t 
let him see us. Let’s get over into the field until he 
has passed.” 

It wasn’t easy to climb the wall, with our robes 
on, but we were over in a jiffy, stumbling around 
inside; then we heard a cry of horror from Skinny. 

“ Gee, fellers, it’s the cemetery ! Get out of this 
quick, or you are goners.” 

That is what it was. Before we knew it, we had 
wandered in among the graves, in the night time I 
It would have taken a speedy ghost to catch Bill. 
I couldn’t catch him and I am a good runner. The 
rest of us were not far behind. 


BOB’S HILL TRAILS 


130 

The eight of us jumped up on the wall at about 
the same time, and stood there in a row, with 
Skinny a little in front, for a second. Our robes 
were flapping in the wind and we were holding our 
pitchforks with the tines up, so that they would 
not catch on anything. Then, just as the man was 
passing, we jumped. 

We hadn’t seen the man, when we stood there; we 
were too frightened. But we heard him as soon as 
we had jumped. I guess they must have heard him 
down in the village. The clouds had thinned across 
the moon for a moment, so that he could see us, 
standing on the graveyard wall, in black robes and 
peaked hats, and with pitchforks raised in the air. 

It paralyzed him. Then we jumped, seemingly 
right at him. Say ! Even Bill couldn’t have hollered 
like that man did. He gave one awful shriek and 
went tearing down the road like mad. 

“ Lawd hab mussy,” we could hear him yelling, 
over and over again. “ Lawd hab mussy. Debbil 
gwine cotch me, suah.” 

It is Sam Cooper ! ” exclaimed Harry, in dis- 
gust. “ And I wanted to get my hair cut tomorrow.” 

Sam Cooper is our barber and almost the only 
colored man in the village. 


ROBED IN BLACK 


131 

“ He’ll be too scared to cut hair for a week,” 
laughed Skinny. “ Gee-whilikins, did you hear him 
yell ? Bill isn’t in it with Sam.” 

After that we were not so afraid ourselves, espe- 
cially as pretty soon we had passed the cemetery 
and were turning into Park street. Bill wanted to 
give one yell and scare somebody else but we 
wouldn’t let him. 

‘‘ What we want,” we told him, “ is to get home 
without having anybody see us or hear us. Sam 
Cooper will tell the whole town; you see if he 
doesn’t.” 

There wasn’t anybody on the street and not a light 
in any of the houses. Benny was the first to turn 
in and we waited out in front, until we saw him 
climb through a window. I was next, and soon I 
was tiptoeing up the stairs to my room, so tired I 
hardly could crawl. 

“ Mum’s the word,” Skinny had whispered, when 
I turned into the yard. 


CHAPTER XI 

‘‘DEVILS IN THE CEMETERY” 

“ John Alexander Smith, are you going to lie 
in bed all day ? This is the third time I have called 
you this morning. We are all through breakfast.” 

The Keeper of the Secret Records roused up out 
of a sound sleep and made a moaning noise to show 
that he had heard and was wide awake. I knew 
that it was no use; I should have to get up. Mother 
never speaks my full name that way unless she 
means business. 

“ Make it snappy, boy,” came Dad^s voice, float- 
ing up the stairway into my room. 

That settled it. With many a groan I crawled out 
and into my clothes, only a few hours after I had 
gone to bed. Snappy ! Every muscle ached and 
hurt when I moved and there were big blisters on 
my hands. Mother could see that something was the 
matter, although I tried to act as if nothing had 
happened. 

Are you sick, John ? ” she asked; anxiously, 

13? 


“DEVILS IN THE CEMETERY” 133 

“ I don’t feel so very well,” I told her, and it was 
true. “ I guess maybe I played too hard yesterday.” 

“ It is climbing that hill,” she said to Father. “ I 
believe the boys climb up and down that hill a dozen 
times a day. It wears me out to think of it.” 

Dad gave a little laugh. You see he used to be 
a boy himself. “ Better cut it down to ten times, 
John,” said he. “ Twelve times are too many. It 
would be a terrible thing if the secretary of the Band 
should wear his legs out.” 

“ I think that I’ll go up to Ezra Bowen’s,” he told 
us, a little later. “ The old man has broken his 
leg, right in the midst of his harvest. It is pretty 
tough. It will cheer him up a little to see a friend 
and maybe we can do something to help. It is 
almost impossible to hire anybody, even when you 
have the money, and Ezra hasn’t any more than the 
law allows.” 

“ John,” he added, as he went out the door, “ I 
have some work for you this morning. I want you 
to carry that wood into the shed and pile it up 
neatly. It ought to have been put in yesterday 
before the rain.” 

Can you beat it ? And I didn’t dare say a word, 
for fear he would ask me what I had been doing. 


BOB’S HILL TRAILS 


134 

Benny came over after a little and I made him help 
me, although he was just as lame and stiff as I was — 
lamer, if anything. 

We both felt better after we had worked a while. 
When you have something to do that is hard and 
that you don’t like, the way to do is to pitch in and 
get it over with. That is what Mr. Norton says 
and that is what we did. It was hard at the start, 
before Benny came. Mother had a rug hanging on 
a line in the back yard and it hid the woodpile 
from the house. It seemed as if I couldn’t move 
at first, and I sat there behind the rug, rapping two 
sticks together, to sound as if I was piling wood 
to beat the band. It worked fine, until Mother 
came out to see the rug and caught me at it. 

When Father came home just before dinner time, 
the wood was all piled and the Klan were having a 
meeting in the barn. Skinny wanted to think of 
some wrong to be righted. 

Great snakes. Skinny ! Bill was saying. No 
more haying for little Willie. Gee, I hardly could 
stick my fork into a pancake this morning at break- 
fast.” 

Just then Father drove into the yard and we 
could hear him talking to Mother under the window. 


“ DEVILS IN THE CEMETERY ” 


135 


How did you find Ezra ? she asked. 

‘‘ Feeling pretty bad. It is tough and no mistake, 
to be laid up that way, and right in the midst of the 
busy season. To make matters worse, somebody 
stole his hay last night.” 

Stole his hay ! Out of the barn ? ” 

“ No, out of the field. He had it all raked up and 
ready to put in the barn, when he broke his leg; 
was intending to put it in yesterday. Some rascal 
heard of his accident, I suppose, and knew that the 
old man couldn’t get out of bed. He carried off the 
whole crop, slick and clean, and used Ezra’s own 
team to haul it. The family didn’t know a thing 
about it until Emily happened to look out toward the 
field this morning, when she was getting breakfast, 
and saw that it was gone. It gave them a shock.” 
Of all things ! What won’t folks steal next ? ” 
Yes, Ezra is feeling pretty bad about it, although 
he says that the rain would have spoiled the hay, 
anyhow. That crop meant a great deal to him. It 
will go hard with the chap who did it, if we can find 
out who it was.” 

The folks went into the house after that and we 
couldn’t hear any more but we had heard enough. 
We didn’t know whether to be mad or tickled. 


136 BOB’S HILL TRAILS 

“ Stole his hay ! ” snorted Skinny. We wouldn’t 
do such a thing. I’ve a notion to go up there and 
put it back in the field.” 

“ You’ll have to do it without the help of Mr. 
Inkibus,” Bill told him, feeling of his muscles. It 
makes me sick almost to see Pedro’s hay.” 

‘‘Then we’ve got to let Ezra Bowen know that 
it’s in the barn. He’d find it out soon enough, if he 
could go up into the mow.” 

“ How are we going to do it, without giving our- 
selves away ? ” 

“ Leave it to Mr. Norton,” said Harry. “ He 
got us into this mess, and now he can get us out of it. 
We can stop at his house and tell him on the way 
home. He goes to dinner about this time.” 

That seemed the right thing to do. We didn’t 
want anybody to know that we had done it; but 
what is the use of a good deed when the man you 
do it to doesn’t know that it has been done ? 

“ If we start right away,” I told them, “ I’ll have 
time to go with you.” 

Mr. Norton almost laughed himself sick, when 
we told him what we had done and that Ezra Bowen 
thought his hay had been stolen; but it wasn’t any 
laughing matter, just the same. Folks were feeling 


‘‘DEVILS IN THE CEMETERY” 137 

pretty mad about it and there was no telling what 
would happen. 

“ Leave it to me, fellows,” he said, wiping his 
eyes. “ I was going up there this afternoon, any- 
how, and I can fix it. I worried a great deal about 
that hay, when I heard it raining along toward 
morning, and I surely did not dream that you boys 
had it in the barn, out of harm’s way. You got ahead 
of me that time. I had planned to go up there to- 
day with you and help. I couldn’t get away yester- 
day. But why in the night ? Why didn’t you do 
the job yesterday afternoon ? ” 

“ Yes, and have the whole town know about it,” 
said Skinny, “ and know who it was who did it. 
You can’t wear a robe and mask when you pitch 
hay, believe me.” 

“ Mum’s the word, Mr. Norton,” we called, when 
we were leaving. 

“ Oh, I’ll keep your secret, boys. It was good 
work and I am proud of you.” 

We didn’t know how he was going to fix it but he 
did, all right. Father came home at night full of 
news. 

“ The strangest thing has happened,” said he. 
“Ezra Bowen’s hay wasn’t stolen, after all. Some- 


138 BOB’S HILL TRAILS 

body had put it in the barn. Whoever it was, must 

have worked a good part of the night; there was a 

bunch of it. I went out to the barn and saw it 

myself.” 

For mercy’s sake 1 ” exclaimed Mother. I 
never heard of such a thing. Who did it ? ” 

“ Nobody knows; but wasn’t it a wonderful thing 
to do ? There was the old man, bed-ridden and his 
crop about to be ruined, and not one of us old 
fossils in the village had sense or decency enough 
to help him out. Some neighbor, most likely after 
a hard day’s work on his own farm, goes over there 
in the dead of the night — secretly — mind you — 
and put that hay in the barn. Ezra says that it 
made his leg almost well when he heard about it. 

I don’t know who did it but I, for one, am proud 
to know that we have such folks living near us. Let 
it be a lesson to you, John — a lesson in thoughtful- 
ness and helpfulness. We are all passing through, 
in this long journey we call life. We don’t know 
where we came from or where we are going, and 
most of us seem to be trying to push the other 
fellow off the path. Then, once in a while, some- 
thing happens like this thing at Bowen’s, that gives 
us new courage and new inspiration,” 


“DEVILS IN THE CEMETERY” 139 

Mr. Norton was right, when he said that in making 
other people happy we should be happy ourselves. 
It made me feel good clear through when Dad was 
saying those things, although it made me laugh, be- 
cause he didn^t know that he was talking about me 
and the others. I hardly could wait until after 
supper, I was in such a hurry to tell the boys 
about it. 

But when I went out to look for them, as soon as I 
could get away from the table, I heard something 
else which made me forget all about it. Sam Cooper, 
the barber, was talking to the marshal, out on Park 
street. 

“ Yes, sah, Mr. Michael,” he was saying. “Ah 
seen ’em as plain as Ah see you this minute — a 
dozen of ’em, mebby twenty, all in black, like you 
see in picters, and a little in front of the others was 
one big debbil. Ah could see his long tail, with a 
bahb on the end, like on a fishhook, a-pintin’ at me.” 

“ What were you doing there, at that time of 
night ? ” 

“ Ah was just cornin’ down the road, past the 
grave ya’d, kind of singin’ to myself, to keep the 
ghosteys away.” 

“ Did you say they carried forks ? ” 


140 BOB’S HILL TRAILS 

“ Yes, sah; eb’ry debbil had a pitch fo’k — lookin^ 
for sinnahs, Ah reckon.” 

“ Well, they found one, when they spotted you, 
Sam.” 

Yes, sah; yes, sah. An’ they had on black 
robes, what flopped in the win’. They heard me 
cornin’ down the road an’ didn’t even stop to take 
off what they was weahing on their faces to keep 
off the heat. The debbil neahly cotched ol’ Sam, 
that time, for suah.” 

Say, Sam,” said the marshal, what is your 
brand and where do you get it ? Those devils never 
came out of a cemetery. They came out of a 
bottle.” 

No, sah. Ah ain’t seen no bottle. Ah is not a 
drinkin’ man, Mr. Michael.” 

Then all I’ve got to say,” the marshal told him, 
“ is to keep away from the farmers’ chickens after 
this, or the devil will get you and no mistake.” 

Mr. Michael,” said Sam, “ Ah ain’t ’mitting Ah 
was aftah chickens, but if Ah was, nevah again, sah, 
nevah again. Ah knows when Ah has had enough.” 

Sam Cooper told that story all over town to 
everybody who would listen. The whole village was 
buzzing with it. The woman who came next day 


“DEVILS IN THE CEMETERY” 141 

to help Mother with her work couldn’t talk of any- 
thing else. 

“ Sure, Mrs. Smith, there were fifty of thim,” said 
she, “ regular divils, like they had slipped out of a 
pitcher book. They had pointed tails, ivry divil of 
them, and flames were cornin’ out of their nostrils. 
They rose up out of the graves, still carrying the 
forks tliey had been shoveling the poor sinners in 
with — God rist their souls. It must have been 
terrible. Sure, I’d ’a’ died a thousand deaths if 
I had seen thim. It’s a warnin’, Mrs. Smith. Some- 
thing awful is going to happen, sure as you’re born.” 

“ Nonsense ! ” said Mother. “ The man was 
drunk and seeing things.” 

“ They say he is not a drinking man, at all. He 
was just passing the cemetery, on his way home from 
the country, whin there came a great flame of light, 
and out stepped all the imps of Satan. They ’most 
got him, he says. If he hadn’t had the prisince of 
mind to make the holy sign of the cross, they would 
have had him on their forks. Whin he did that, 
they groaned in despair and wint back where they 
belong.” 

“ It was dark. How could he see them or know 


there were fifty ? ” 


142 


BOB’S HILL TRAILS 


“ Sure, Oime tellin’ ye. Fire was coming out of 
their noses, making it as bright as day, and there 
they were glaring at him, waving their tails and 
shaking their forks. God have mercy on us, Mrs. 
Smith. It’s awful wicked we must be to have such 
things happen.” 

“ How did you say they were dressed ? ” 

They had on black robes, he says, and peaked 
hats and wore black masks on their faces. Iviry 
divil of thim was carrying a pitchfork.” 

When she said that, Mother gave a little start and 
looked at me. I could tell what she was thinking 
about; she had helped make those black robes and 
peaked hats. I winked at her; I couldn’t help it. 

“ John Alexander Smith,” she exclaimed, come 
with me into the next room.” 

“ Now,” she went on, after the door had been 
closed, “what have you boys been up to ? Tell me, 
instantly. You didn’t get those blisters on your 
hands working for me, I know.” 

I had to tell. She knew about a part of it, any- 
how, so it didn’t make so much difference. I thought 
she would laugh her head off, when I told her about 
the cemetery part, how scared we were and how 
Sam Cooper yelled and ran. But when I had 


“DEVILS IN THE CEMETERY” 143 
finished, her face was shining and there were tears 
in her eyes, as she hugged me tight. 

“ I should have worried,” she told me, “ if I had 
known you were up there in the night, and I think 
now it would have been better to have done your 
good deed in the day time; but it was a splendid 
thing to do and I am proud of every one of you. 
How did you happen to think of it ? ” 

Mr. Norton told us about it. He said there 
was a mighty good deed waiting for somebody to do, 
and that is what the B. H. K. are for, you know.” 

“ That blessed man ! ” she cried. He has been 
the best thing that ever came into your life, John, 
he and the Boy Scout business. It will be a great 
loss when he goes away.” 

“ You have stirred up the whole village,” she 
laughed. First came the story of stealing Ezra 
Bowen’s hay; then that it wasn’t stolen at all but 
put in the barn, and now, the devils with their pitch- 
forks. We haven’t had so much to talk about this 
year. It is too good to keep.” 

You promised not to tell,” I warned her. 

“ I know it and I am not going to but it will be 
hard to keep still, with everybody talking about it 
and such ridiculous stories going around. The Klan 


BOB’S HILL TRAILS 


144 

are not going to have a meeting this afternoon, by 
any chance, are they ? ” 

‘‘ I shouldn’t wonder. Why? ” 

“Oh, nothing — except that if they should 
happen to come around, you will find a pan of fresh 
doughnuts in the pantry.” 

“Laugh, if you want to, Mrs. Smith,” I heard 
the woman in the kitchen say, a little later, “ but 
somethin’ terrible is going to happen, just the same. 
It’s a warnin’.” 


CHAPTER XII 

MOTHER DOES A GOOD DEED 

There was a lot of talk about the devils in the 
cemetery; it made us laugh. Most people thought 
that Sam Cooper, the man who saw us, had been 
drinking. If he had, he will never drink again; he 
will be afraid to. Others said that probably he saw 
something, maybe a bush waving in the wind, and, 
coming home in the night past the cemetery, 
imagined the rest. 

Anyhow, we thought it would be better not to wear 
our robes for a while, until things had quieted down 
a little. There wasnT any use in letting folks find 
out who was doing it; that would spoil all the fun. 
Besides, we couldn’t think of any more good deeds. 
I mean big ones, the kind that would take the whole 
Band to do them. 

There were plenty of little ones. Mrs. Barker, 
across the street from our house, wanted all kinds 
of errands done, and Mr. Norton had us do a whole 
lot of little things for Ezra Bowen, in the day time, 


3 46 BOB’S HILL TRAILS 

without our masks on. It made Mr. Bowen like 
us first rate and once he told us that we might have 
some apples when they were ripe. But he didn’t 
find out about the hay. We heard him talking about 
it several times and wishing that he knew who it 
was, so that he could thank him. 

You can’t think of good deeds very well when 
Fourth of July is coming; there is too much to do 
getting ready and too many other things to think 
about. There is something about Fourth of July 
that is different from every other day of the year. 
It isn’t the noise and things like that, although they 
help. It isn’t any one thing at all but all the 
things put together, I guess, that make a boy feel 
different from on any other day, even Christmas. 
Father says that it is the one day in the whole year 
when he has money to burn. 

Mother didn’t have to call me on Fourth of July 
morning. There was so much to be done and so 
much fun in sight that I couldn’t sleep, and it was 
just the same with the other boys. There was the 
cannon to be fired off by the big boys on Bob’s Hill, 
at four o’clock in the morning. That would have 
wakened us up, if nothing else did. Then there was 
the big bonfire to light on the hill. We always have 


MOTHER DOES A GOOD DEED 147 
a bonfire; we get it all ready the night before — tar 
barrels, drygoods boxes and things like that. And 
the church bells had to be rung. It wouldn’t be 
Fourth of July without those things. And they only 
started the day. There was even more to be done 
after breakfast. 

On the day before the Fourth we found Willie 
Graham crying. Willie lives on Park street but he 
doesn’t belong to the Band or the Patrol. He is too 
young. We were on our way to our barn, with the 
last of our firecrackers and rockets and such things. 
We had been buying them for weeks, a few at a time, 
and hiding them in our barn. 

What’s the matter, Willie ? ” asked Skinny. 
“ Who has been picking on you ? The K 1 — I mean 
the Band — will put a head on him. Won’t we, 
fellers ? ” 

My father won’t give me any money to buy fire- 
crackers with,” sobbed Willie, “ and he’ll lick me if 
I ask him again.” 

It made Skinny mad. He thinks a lot of Fourth 
of July, on account of his ancestors having fought 
in the Battle of Bunker Hill. There were thirteen 
of them and one was killed, which Hank says was a 
good thing, thirteen being an unlucky number. 


BOB’S HILL TRAILS 


148 

“ Pedro,” he whispered, “ are the robes put away 
where nobody can see them ? ” 

‘‘ You come with us, Willie,” he said, when I had 
told him that they were all packed away in a chest, 
waiting for the next time. 

It surprised us a little, Willie not belonging to the 
B. H. K., but we didn’t say anything. It couldn’t 
do much harm, anyhow. There wasn’t anything to 
see except some old chairs and a table, our Scout 
motto, Be Prepared,” that Mr. Norton had given 
us, and a lot of hay. 

It made Willie dry his eyes, just the same, and 
wonder what was going to happen. 

“ Fellers,” Skinny began, after we had gone up- 
stairs and the meeting had come to order, to- 
morrow will be the Fourth of July.” 

Tell us something new,” said Bill. We heard 
about that yesterday.” 

Skinny looked around for his hatchet to pound 
with but couldn’t find it. He looked fierce at Bill 
and went on, 

“ Fourth of July is the day when the United 
States of America was born. It was the day on 
which they signed the What-you-call-it and rang 
Liberty Bell and shot off firecrackers, to beat the 


MOTHER DOES A GOOD DEED 149 
band. That was long ago and ever since that time 
weVe kept on ringing bells and firing firecrackers 
on the Fourth of July. It is for our country. It 
wouldn’t be right not to do it.” 

“ I read it in a book,” he added, turning to Willie. 

“ I know it,” Willie told him. I had some tor- 
pedoes last Fourth.” 

‘‘ Torpedoes ! ” snorted Skinny. “ You throw 
one on the floor or against a wall, and maybe it goes 
off and maybe it doesn’t. Torpedoes are better than 
nothing at all but, betcher life, they were not throw- 
ing torpedoes at the Battle of Bunker Hill. Didn’t 
the Americans wait behind a fence until they could 
see the whites of the enemy’s eyes ? And then did 
they throw torpedoes at them ? Say, did they ? ” 

“I — I don’t know,” Willie began, not feeling sure 
what he ought to say; then seeing Skinny scowl, 
“ I don’t think they did.” 

“ Fellers,” whispered Skinny, drawing us to one 
side, ‘‘ here is a chance to do a good deed and right 
a wrong at the same time. What do you say ? ” 

“ We haven’t on our masks and robes. Skinny,” 
said Benny. “ It is too late to put them on now; he 
would see us.” 

“ Well, let’s do it, anyhow. Let’s give him a part 


BOB’S HILL TRAILS 


150 

of our firecrackers. It’s for the Fourth of July,” 
he urged. “ It’s for our country.” 

When Willie left, his pockets were full of fire- 
crackers and he was the happiest boy in the village 
except Skinny, maybe. 

“ Keep ’em out of sight until tomorrow,” he 
warned. ‘‘ Then give ’em Bunker Hill.” 

When I told Mother about it afterward, she was 
madder than Skinny had been. 

“ The old skinflint ! ” she cried. I don’t believe 
that he ever was a boy. That is the meanest man 
in town, John. It makes me sick to look at him. 
He has mortgages on half the farms around here, 
and God help the poor people who can’t pay. That 
is what ails Ezra Bowen more than his broken leg. 
He is afraid that old Graham will take his farm 
away from him. He would have done it too, if you 
boys hadn’t saved his hay crop, and maybe he will, 
anyhow, if some of the rest of us do not get busy.” 

We never had liked that man, Graham, but the 
mortgage business was news to me. He was mean, 
just like Mother said. I have seen him kick a dog 
half-way across the street, just for the fun of kick- 
ing him. We’d be put out of the Boy Scouts, if 
we did such a thing. 


MOTHER DOES A GOOD DEED 15 1 

Nothing more happened for several days. Fourth 
of July had come and gone, and we were getting 
ready to play our ball game with the Gingham 
Ground Gang — I mean Eagle patrol. Then things 
began to happen so fast they made our heads swim. 

They started one evening, when Benny and I 
were going up Park street, on our way home. One 
house stood almost on the street line and Benny 
gave the doorbell a ring when we passed. 

“ Let^s do it to every house on the street,” he 
said, for he was feeling full of fun. 

We started in, stepping to the front door of every 
house. We hadn^t gone far when we could see the 
folks come out and look around, then go in again. 

When we had come to Mr. Graham’s house Benny 
rang the bell and I gave the door a kick, for just 
then I thought about Ezra Bowen and how he 
might lose his farm. Two houses further on we 
heard the Graham door open with a bang and, down 
the steps, he jumped after us, carrying a club. 

We didn’t stop to do any more bell ringing after 
that. The man was crazy mad. 

“ Run ! ” I shouted to Benny, grabbing him by 
one hand, for his legs were shorter than mine and 
he couldn’t get over the ground so fast. 


152 BOB’S HILL TRAILS 

We did some great running that time but old 
Graham’s legs were still longer and he gained on us 
with every jump. It wasn’t so very far to our 
house but I thought we never should get there. 
Nearer and nearer he came. 

“ I’ve got you, this time,” he shouted, swinging 
his club. 

It missed us, for just then we ducked and dodged 
through our gate, almost winded and panting with 
fright. It seemed as if I never had been so scared 
in my life. 

Mother looked surprised when two frantic boys 
rushed past her into the kitchen and crawled back 
of the stove out of sight but she didn’t have time 
to say anything. Just then we could hear a man’s 
steps on the back stoop. And there was Graham ! 
He was coming right in after us. 

Say ! You ought to have seen my mother then. 
A bright red spot came into each cheek, as she 
planted herself in the doorway and looked at him. 
We were peeking from behind the stove, getting 
ready to dash out the back door into the garden and 
up on Bob’s Hill. It is a wonder that he didn’t 
shrivel up and catch fire. 

‘‘ You coward ! ” she said. 


MOTHER DOES A GOOD DEED 153 

It was enough, too. The man stopped right there 
and seemed to be going to tell her what we had done. 
She wouldn’t listen. 

“John,” said she, but without taking her eyes 
off the man. “ Run across the street and get the 
marshal. We’ll put this fellow where he belongs.” 

He tried again to tell her what we had done but 
it wasn’t any use. She wouldn’t let him speak. 
She was thinking of Ezra Bowen and the mortgage 
on his farm; not of us. 

“ Don’t speak to me ! ” she cried. “ And get off 
the place. I don’t want to breathe the same air.” 

But I didn’t go across any street. And have 
him catch me in front of the house ? Not much ! 
He slunk away after that and we didn’t see him 
again for some time but I was careful to keep on 
Benny’s side of the street. There isn’t any use in 
taking chances. 

Mother wouldn’t talk about it very much. She 
seemed to feel kind of ashamed of getting mad that 
way; I couldn’t see why. Father said that I ought 
to tell Graham I was sorry I rang his bell and 
wouldn’t do it again. 

“ It doesn’t make any difference how mean a man 
Graham is,” he told me. “ You can’t afford to be 


BOB’S HILL TRAILS 


154 

mean just because somebody else is. I want you 
to remember that, John, as long as you live. It was 
a mean thing to ring his bell and kick his door, and 
I want you to go over there and apologize for it. 
If he touches you, the law will take care of him.” 

‘‘ It will do the child a lot of good, after he has 
been beaten black and blue ! ” said Mother, begin- 
ning to get mad again. 

Now, Ma,” he began. “ You know he ought to 
apologize.” 

“ Don’t you Ma me,” she blazed. ‘‘ If John goes 
over there to apologize, his father will have to go 
with him to protect him. That man had murder 
in his eyes when he came over here the other day, if 
anyone ever did.” 

“ I know what Graham is,” Dad went on, “ and 
I don’t want my boy to grow up into that kind of 
a man. It isn’t necessary for John to go over there. 
Under the circumstances, perhaps it would not be 
wise. But the boy ought to do the right thing.” 

“ John,” said he, turning to me, “ sit down and 
write a note of apology to Mr. Graham. Let’s have 
no more talk about it.” 

It was one of the hardest things I ever did, 
especially as I didn’t feel so very sorry. 


MOTHiLk DOES A GOOD DEED 155 

“ You ought to have had a rope and lassoed him/’ 
said Skinny, when he heard about it. “ Betcher 
life, old Graham doesn’t chase me.” 

But he was mad, just the same. Then I told him 
what Mother had said about the mortgages on half 
the farms in town and about what ailed Ezra Bowen. 

“ Fellers,” he said, ‘‘ we’ve got to earn some 
money. That’s all there is about it.” 

“We can’t earn several thousand dollars,” I told 
him. 

“ That’s so. But we have got to do something. 
What is the B. H. K. for, if it isn’t to right all 
wrongs ? ” 

That was the beginning of one of the biggest 
things we ever did, only we didn’t think of it at first. 
It takes time to think up big things, as Skinny says. 

We had something else to think about for a while. 
Our ball game was soon to come off and we had to 
do a lot of practicing. Skinny says for me to for- 
get about the ball game or else write it in invisible 
ink. You see, we were beaten, 19 to ii. It wouldn’t 
have happened if Tom Chapin had been there but 
he couldn’t come. We were ahead at first and 
thought we were going to beat. Then Jim Donavan, 
the leader of the Gingham Ground Gang, knocked a 


156 BOB’S HILL TRAILS 

home run, with three men on bases, and we couldn’t 

seem to do a thing after that. 

But the very next day after the game something 
happened which made us forget all about the ball 
game and everything else except what we could do 
to Graham. 

We found Willie crying again and afraid to go 
home. He had run away to see the game and 
his father had whipped him for it with a club, until 
he was sore all over and hardly could walk. He 
showed us the welts on his back. It was awful. 
Skinny went white, he was so mad, and his cheeks 
are most always red and shiny, like apples when 
you rub them. 

The next morning I found the Sign out on the side- 
walk in front of our house. It said for the Klan 
to meet at the cave, at two o’clock that afternoon. 
And there was blood dripping down ! 


CHAPTER XIII 

SOME ASTONISHING ADVENTURES 

That man Graham had one friend, and I guess he 
was about the only one he did have in the whole 
town — a man as mean as himself. This man had 
a farm, on a lonely country road, part way up East 
mountain. It was an easy walk from the village 
and ’most every Saturday evening Graham walked 
up there. 

On the first Saturday evening after the meeting 
in the cave, he walked out there, and as usual 
started for home about ten o’clock. He sometimes 
carried a lantern but he had been over the road so 
many times he could find his way in the dark, with- 
out any trouble. 

It isn’t any fun walking along a country road at 
night, even when there is someone with you; but 
when you are all alone and it is dark — Say ! you 
will never catch any of us out that way. 

“That is when ghosts walk,” Skinny often had 
told us, especially about midnight. It is scary, any- 


158 BOB’S HILL TRAILS 

how, whether you really believe in such things or 
not, as we found out in the cemetery, after putting 
Ezra Bowen’s hay in the barn. 

Mother says that night-time is when the con- 
science gets busy. It makes cowards of people and 
they see things. 

“ I should think George Graham would be afraid 
to go out alone after sundown,” she went on. “ I 
don’t believe he has a conscience, even though he 
does pretend to be so pious; but he is a coward, 
just the same. Such men always are.” 

Anyhow, Graham was walking down the lonely 
country road on the Saturday night I am telling 
about. Maybe he was thinking of Ezra Bowen and 
that mortgage; I don’t know. We were. 

Just as he was passing the lonesomest place in the 
whole road, a ghost sprang out at him from behind 
a bush. You could tell that it was a ghost because 
it wore a white sheet and waved its arms in a 
frightful way. It was about as big as Skinny. 

I don’t know whether ghosts ever talk or not. 
Mr. Norton says that they gibber, whatever that is, 
and squeak. He read it in a book, he told Skinny. 
This one didn’t have time to gibber or anything else, 
for Graham gave a great jump, like when a horse 


SOME ASTONISHING ADVENTURES 159 
shies at a white paper, and went tearing down the 
road toward home. 

After him ran the ghost, reaching out its arms to 
grab him, and too much out of breath to do any 
gibbering or even squeak. And after the ghost ran 
five masked figures, in black robes and peaked hats. 
But Graham didn’t see those at all. He was too 
far in the lead and running too fast. 

“ Hold on, — fellers, — I am — all in ! ” panted the 
ghost, as the man came in sight of the first houses 
and turned down toward Park street. 

“ Great snakes. Skinny ! ” urged Bill. “ We 
want to see what happens when he gets home.” 

“ We couldn’t get there in time; he is ’most there 
now. Gee, I never saw a man run so fast. A feller 
can’t keep up when he has a sheet trailing around 
his legs and catching under his feet.” 

But when Graham reached his house, there was 
the ghost, all in white, sitting on the door-step wait- 
ing for him, as comfortable as you please. Anyway, 
it looked like the same one, in the dark. 

He stopped in his tracks when he saw it, too scared 
to yell even; then, as he looked, the ghost rose slowly 
in the air and floated away. It was too much. 
Giving one yell, he dove into the house and slammed 


i6o BOB’S HILL TRAILS 

the door. A few minutes later every room was 

ablaze with light. He wasn’t going to take any 

chances. 

That is what we saw, a few minutes later, when 
we passed the house and hunted up Hank and Benny 
to find out what had happened. We didn’t get there 
in time to see the ghost but we saw the house all 
lighted up like a party. 

It was enough to scare anybody,” said Hank, 
when he had told us about it. I was almost scared 
myself. The balloons, wrapped in a sheet, looked 
just likfe the ghost of a man, sitting there in the 
dark, after we had tied the thing to the steps. It 
kind of swayed back and forth in the breeze. When 
we cut the string it seemed to make a jump right at 
him, then rose into the air and floated out of sight. 
It was great.” 

“ I sort of feel as if something worse is going to 
happen to him next Saturday night,” said Skinny, as 
he was starting for home. “ How about it, Hank ? 
Oh, no. Maybe not. I hope I can get into the 
house without their hearing me.” 

You see, Hank knows how to make things. 
Skinny can think of what to do better than any of 
us but Hank is better at making machines. He 


SOME ASTONISHING ADVENTURES i6i 
says he is going to be an inventor, or something. 
Down in his cellar there is a shelf full of all kinds 
of chemical stuff that he knows a lot about. Some- 
times when he mixes different bottles together and 
maybe gets the wrong bottle, there is such a smell in 
the cellar that his folks can’t stand it. 

We were afraid that Graham might not go up to his 
friend’s house the next Saturday night, on account 
of having seen the ghost, but he went, just the same. 
At one place the path to town leaves the road and 
cuts cross-lots, until it strikes the road further down, 
passing between two trees on the way. 

As Graham walked between the trees, two great 
white wings came out and moved back and forth, 
and a voice from above was heard, saying, 

“ Graham, thou must do better, or die.” 

It scared him almost to death. “ I will. Lord, 
I will,” he whined, getting down on his knees. 

Then, as he looked up toward the sound of the 
voice, he saw, in the faint light. Skinny sitting on a 
limb and wearing his black robe and peaked hat. 
It was too dark to see much of anything but he 
could see a figure sitting there, and it wasn’t the 
figure of an angel. He didn’t wait to see any more. 
Maybe he remembered the stories about the devils 


1 62 BOB’S HILL TRAILS 

with their forks, who came up out of the cemetery, 

and thought they were after him. 

Skinny tried to dodge around a limb, out of sight, 
but before he could move the man was tearing down 
the path, as fast as he could make his legs go. 

We were following after more slowly, when Skinny 
saw It. We had just come out of the path into the 
road again. Down the road a little way, was a small 
farm-house, on the mountain-side, every room dark. 
The folks had been in bed and asleep a long time, 
and we were supposed to be. Far below, we could 
see one or two lights in the village, shining through 
the darkness, seeming to make the night even more 
lonesome and scary. 

“ What’s that ? ” whispered Skinny. 

We stopped running and stood there, looking to 
see what he was pointing at. We didn’t know what 
we were scared at; we were just scared. Maybe it 
was the way Skinny said, “ What’s that ? ” 

Beyond the fence, we saw something, we didn’t 
know what — something white, slowly moving to- 
ward us, seeming to sort of float there in the dark. 

Great snakes ! ” said Bill. It’s the real thing; 
I ’most know it is. That’s what you get. Skinny 
Miller, playing ghost. They don’t like it.” 


SOME ASTONISHING ADVENTURES 163 

“ WeVe got to go back, fellers, around the road,” 
moaned Skinny, wetting his lips with his tongue. 
“ It^s a lot farther but they are after us.” 

Our knees almost gave way under us, as we 
turned to run. Suddenly Bill hit his foot against 
a stone and I saw him stiffen and look back toward 
the ghost. 

“ Wait a second,” said he. “ I^m going to heave a 
rock at it.” 

It will go right through. Bill. You can’t hit ’em, 
and it will make ’em madder,” gasped Skinny, trying 
to grab his arm. 

But before we could stop him, Bill picked up the 
stone and threw it with all his might at the ghost. 
More frightened than ever, we started to run. I 
don’t care what you say, that was no time to be 
waiting around to see what was going to happen. 

Bill is the best runner and the best thrower in the 
bunch. He doesn’t always hit but when he does — 
good night; that’s all I have to say. This time he 
hit. And it didn’t go through ! 

As the stone struck, fair and square, with a thud, 
the ghost gave a startled jump, kicked its hind feet 
in the air, and started down the field like the wind, 
in a frightened gallop. 


BOB’S HILL TRAILS 


164 

“ Aw, Gee! ” said Harry, ‘‘ You are a nice bunch 
of Scouts to be scared at an old white horse. Come 
on. Let’s get home before it eats us.” 

That is what it was — a white horse in the pasture, 
wondering what was going on at that time of night. 
He found out, all right, when Bill hit him with 
that stone. 

I could have lassoed him,” said Skinny, as we 
walked along, “ if those sheets hadn’t been tied to 
my rope.” 

Nothing happened after that for two or three 
nights. The folks made us go to bed early. Be- 
sides, we had to hold several meetings of the B. H. 
K., before we could decide what to do and get ready 
for it. 

Finally, came the great night, and with it most of 
the boys. I don’t know how the others did it but 
I climbed out of a window on to the roof of the 
back stoop, and then slid down a round post. 

It was almost midnight, and was scary in the barn, 
with all kinds of queer noises. We had to go in, for 
our robes were there and, tied to a beam, was 
another balloon-ghost, which we had made and left 
there ready for business. 

When we saw it, as we crept to the top of the 


SOME ASTONISHING ADVENTURES 165 
stairs, we were almost scared ourselves, for the 
thing swayed there in the dark — head and body, 
without legs, all in white. It was a fearful sight. 

Just as the clock in the Baptist church steeple 
struck twelve, the ghost floated up to the window 
in Graham^s house, where we knew he was sleeping, 
and one of the boys tapped on the glass with a fish- 
pole. 

I don^t know what Mr. Graham thought when he 
woke up and looked toward the window but I know 
what I should have thought to have seen that thing 
grinning at me, at midnight. 

Hank was in a tree just opposite the window, with 
Benny^s magic lantern, which his folks had given 
him on the Christmas before. When the grinning 
ghost had looked in at the window long enough to 
be seen, we pulled it back, and a circle of light from 
the lantern was shot through the window, on to the 
bedroom wall. Hank then put in a slide which he 
had made and in the circle of light to the wondering 
eyes of Graham, awakened from a sound sleep by a 
ghost, appeared these words: 

“ Repent, you sinner. You have oppressed the 
weak. You have robbed the poor and sick. Thrice 
have you been warned. This is your last chance. 


i66 


BOB’S HILL TRAILS 


Repent, or your doom is sealed.” 

Skinny wanted some blood dripping down but 
Hank wouldn’t do it, ghosts not having any blood. 
Of course, Ezra Bowen wasn’t sick; he only had his 
leg broken; but it sounded better that way. 

It worked. That is the funny thing about it, 
when I come to think it over. Father went up to 
Ezra Bowen’s, a day or two afterward, to find out 
just when the mortgage would be due and to tell 
him that he need not worry about it. He found 
Mr. Bowen sitting by a window, with his broken 
leg propped up in a chair, and looking very happy. 

What do you think ? ” said he. That old 
skinflint has been up here and renewed my note. It 
must be that the world is coming to an end.” 

Yes, sir; Graham repented and was pretty decent 
after that, and Willie didn’t have any more trouble. 
Nobody could understand it, until we finally told 
Mr. Norton. It was too good to keep. 

He laughed; then looked sober, and shook his 
head a little, as he sat there thinking. 

“ I don’t know what to say to you boys,” he told 
us, finally. “ Graham had it coming to him all right, 
and he seems to be trying to do the square thing 
now. You have done a good deed but in a very 


SOME ASTONISHING ADVENTURES 167 

bad way. I feel somewhat to blame, for I encour- 
aged your fun when I found out that you wanted 
to do helpful things only. Still, maybe nothing else 
would have touched him. Graham is a very super- 
stitious man, as much so in his way as Sam Cooper. 
What he calls religion is not the real thing, by any 
means, or hasn’t been up to the present time.” 

“ Betcher life he had it coming to him,” said 
Skinny. Look how he beat up Willie, his own boy, 
and how he tried to spoil the Fourth of July.” 

“ Yes, I think he had, and then some. I am not 
worrying about him but about you boys. It is 
never safe or wise to take the law into your own 
hands, although sometimes the temptation is strong 
and it seems almost necessary. Anyhow, I want 
you to cut out the rough-stuff after this. There are 
plenty of good deeds which you can do in a proper 
way. What do you say ? Will you cut it out ? ” 
“ Out she goes,” Skinny told him, for Mr. Norton 
was looking at him, being patrol leader. “ But, 
say ! it was fun. I only wish I’d ’a’ lassoed the 
critter, like I did the bear that time.” 

“ I do not want to interrupt the good deeds,” 
began Mr. Norton, a few days later, ‘^but I am 
going to take a couple days off, beginning tomorrow, 


i68 


BOB’S HILL TRAILS 


and would like to have you boys go along. I think 
I told you that a friend of mine in North Adams 
is interested in looking up the old Indian trail and 
the early roads across the mountains, from the Hud- 
son valley to the Connecticut valley. He wants us 
to go up on Florida mountain with him. It will be 
fun and we shall be able to learn something about 
the early history of this section, for my friend has 
made a study of that sort of thing. 

Take your Boy Scout packs along and we’ll 
camp out somewhere all night. I don’t want to 
bother with tents; I can stand it, if you can. We 
shall find some good place to sleep. I’ll get my 
friend, Bradford, to tell you stories about the old 
trails, around the campfire in the evening. I mean, 
of course, if your folks will let you go.” 

“ Shall we take our robes and masks ? ” Benny 
asked. 

“ Well, not this time. You might scare some- 
body to death and that wouldn’t do.” 

It sounded good to us and it sounded good to our 
folks. The eight Scouts of Raven Patrol were ready 
to start, bright and early the next morning. 


CHAPTER XIV 
THE BLAZED TRAIL 

Part of the fun of doing anything, or of going 
anywhere, is in getting ready. It is true of Fourth 
of July; it is true of Christmas, and it is true of a 
hiking trip. Mr. Norton’s plan was for us to go by 
train to North Adams, where his friend, Mr. William 
Bradford, would join us, and to walk up the moun- 
tain from there. 

It is a beautiful ride,” said he, but an even 
more beautiful walk, especially as I do not happen 
to own a car. You boys climb up and down Bob’s 
Hill so much, you are not suffering for exercise, but 
I have been cooped up in an office and need action. 
You chaps will be like every one else, I suppose. 
When you have grown up and can afford one, you 
will buy an automobile and then, goodby to walk- 
ing.” 

“ It is fun to ride, just the same,” Skinny told 
him. 

“ I know it is but why the hurry ? Folks nowa- 
169 


BOB’S HILL TRAILS 


170 

days go through life so fast they don’t have time 
to see anything. On every side there is beauty and 
inspiration, hidden from many who ride. I was 
talking with a man, just the other day, who had 
been driving through the Adirondack mountains — a 
wonderful ride, too far to walk, of course — perfect 
roads, beautiful lakes and woods, hills and mountain 
peaks in the distance, picturesque scenery every- 
where. What do suppose he bragged about when 
he was telling me where he had been ? ” 

The fish he caught,” said Bill. You can get 
all kinds of fish on a trip like that. Why, once — ” 
No. There would have been some sense in that. 
I couldn’t make out that he went fishing at all; but 
he drove two hundred miles a day in his car 1 
Think of going to the Adirondacks to absorb the 
beauty of that great playground and driving two 
hundred miles a day in an automobile ! Whiz ! 
Bang ! Away they go, and see nothing.” 

Skinny groaned. Nobody home ! ” he said, 
shaking his head. Just a plain nut. You shouldn’t 
be talking to such folks.” 

“ I am not sure that I follow you but I think 
that you have caught the idea I was trying to express 
in my feeble way.” 


THE BLAZED TRAIL 


171 

It took some hustling but early next morning we 
were ready to start — blankets, rations, camping out- 
fit and everything, except that Skinny, forgot some- 
thing important — but Vll put that in later. 

From North Adams we went up the Mohawk 
Trail. This is a new road, from where Hoosic river 
flows into the Hudson to North Adams, then over the 
mountains to Deerfield river, and on to the Con- 
necticut. 

Maybe I have not told you that the Hoosac range 
is not a single ridge. There are two ridges, with a 
high valley between. That is where the little town 
of Florida is, in that high valley, and Savoy is farther 
south. Some farming is done there. It is all right 
in summer but in winter it must be fierce. The top 
of the west ridge, looking down on North Adams 
and Hoosic valley, is called Perry’s Pass. The top 
of the east ridge, looking down on Deerfield valley, 
is called Whitcomb Summit. 

We followed the Trail up into the high valley, 
beyond Perry’s Pass, stopping at every turn in the 
winding road to look back and down. It was great 
but I can’t tell about it. I don’t mean that it is a 
secret, like some of our doings, but I don’t know the 
words. 


172 


BOB’S HILL TRAILS 


“ Nobody knows them,” Mr. Norton told me, 
when I asked him about it. The words haven’t 
been made which will describe such views. They 
must be seen and felt, to be appreciated.” 

Anyhow, as we looked back from the top of the 
ridge at Perry’s Pass, we could see old Greylock, 
lifting high his head and gazing across at us, as if 
wondering where those Bob’s Hill boys were going 
this time. All around him, like the guards of 
liberty ” in Bill’s Last Day piece, were smaller peaks, 
and mountain ranges beyond. At our feet almost, 
only far below, nestled North Adams. And to the 
south and the north and the west, shone the waters 
of Hoosic river, winding through green valleys, 
dotted with villages and hemmed in by mountains. 

We sat there a long time, looking and resting and 
talking; then went on and after a while turned off 
from the Trail into an old road, which led us through 
the high valley, between great patches of mountain 
laurel. 

“ It is a queer thing,” Mr. Bradford told us, but 
there does not seem to be any mountain laurel on 
the Greylock range, while the Hoosac range is white 
with it during the blossoming time. It is a fine 
sight.” 


THE BLAZED TRAIL 


173 

At one place we saw an old shed which, he said, 
marked Central Shaft, a deep hole dug when they 
were building Hoosac Tunnel. It goes clear down 
to the tunnel, more than one thousand feet below. 

A horrible accident happened there,’^ he went 
on, “ October 19, 1867. Thirteen men were working 
at the bottom of the shaft, at that time down nearly 
six hundred feet.” 

Great snakes ! ” exclaimed Bill. Thirteen ! 
Didn^t they know any better than that ? It’s a 
wonder they were not all killed.” 

“ They were.” 

“ Tell us about it,” urged Mr. Norton. “ I have 
heard the story, of course, but have forgotten some 
of the details.” 

“ There was an explosion of gasoline, which set 
the building over the shaft on fire and stopped the 
machinery. Down below was a series of platforms, 
with connecting ladders between. On the top plat- 
form all kinds of tools were stored. The fire stopped 
the working of the pumps, which had been pumping 
water out of the hole and fresh air in. Burning 
timbers soon began to fall down the shaft. When 
the top platform gave way, three hundred drills 
and many timbers rained down on the men. 


174 


BOB’S HILL TRAILS 


“ The next morning a man named Thomas Mallery 
had himself lowered into the shaft. It was a brave 
thing for him to do and I want you to know his 
name.” 

“ I’ll bet Tom Chapin would have done it,” put 
in Bill. “ Why, once Tom — ” 

We motioned for Bill to keep quiet and not to 
stop the story. 

“ Mallery found fifteen feet of water in the shaft 
but no trace of the men. When he was pulled out 
again he was almost dead from foul air. Nearly 
a year passed before the bodies were found. That 
old tunnel cost many lives, 192 in all.” 

“ How were they able to find a rope long enough?” 
asked Mr. Norton. 

Mallery spliced several together. He was an 
old sailor.” 

He was about to say more, when Skinny gave a 
great moan that stopped him. 

My rope ! ” he wailed. “ I forgot my rope. 
It’s bad luck. Something will happen sure.” 

I don’t see how Skinny came to forget his rope ; he 
almost always takes it with him on hikes like that. 

“Now, that is too bad,” Mr. Norton told him. 
“ Maybe we’d better go back. I supposed, of course. 


THE BLAZED TRAIL 


175 

that Skinny would lasso two or three bears for us 
on this trip. A bear steak would taste good, about 
now, and a little bacon wouldn^'t be half bad. Sup- 
pose we go on to that house, which I see yonder, 
and get some fresh water; then build a fire some- 
where and eat our lunch.” 

We’ll not forget that lunch in a thousand years, 
or a hundred, anyhow. It is fun to eat anytime, 
when you are hungry, as we almost always are, but 
up there on the mountain, where we seemed to be a 
long way off from everything and everybody, and 
we almost expected to see a bear or an Indian pop 
out from behind every bush, and the smell of frying 
bacon driving us almost crazy — well, just try it 
sometime, that’s all. 

“ Now,” said Mr. Norton, after we had finished 
and were lying around on the grass, too full to walk 
for a while, “ I am going to thank Mr. Bradford for 
bringing us up here and ask him to tell us something 
about the old road that he is trying to find. This 
will be almost as enjoyable as a regular campfire.” 

Well, fellows,” Mr. Bradford began, I shall 
cut it short. Boys, as a rule, are not much inter- 
ested in the past. They live in the present. My 
friend, Norton, evidently has told you that I am 


176 BOB’S HILL TRAILS 

collecting data for a history of this part of our state. 
Just now I am trying to mark on a map the various 
roads which have crossed the Hoosac range. 

There have been a number of such roads. First 
came the original Mohawk trail, very different from 
the present one, which is attracting tourists from far 
and near. It was an Indian trail, probably not more 
than eighteen inches wide, after the manner of 
Indian trails. The Indians, you may know, walked 
one behind another, stepping in each other’s foot- 
prints.” 

“ Wait a second,” said Bill, who had been sort of 
fidgeting around. He took a long breath and began. 

Nobody ever heard Bill Wilson do any better than 
he did that time. You would have thought there 
was a whole tribe of Indians loose. Mr. Bradford 
looked surprised, never having heard Bill before, and 
finally put his hands over his ears. Mr. Norton 
took out his watch and pretended to see how long 
it would take Bill to get that yell out of his system. 

Soon the members of the Band jumped up and 
pranced around in a circle, with Bill in the middle. 
Skinny pulled out his Boy Scout hatchet, for a toma- 
hawk, and began a war dance, chopping away at 
the air and singing all kinds of Indian words that 


THE BLAZED TRAIL 


177 

he made up as he went along, and we all followed 
after, doing the same. I guess Mr. Bradford was 
almost paralyzed before we finished. 

“ There 1 ” said Bill, when at last we stopped, 
being out of breath. ‘‘ Go on, Mr. Bradford. We 
have more room now and can listen better.’’ 

“ I surely thought I was going to be scalped that 
time,” he began, laughing to himself. “You see in 
the early days, the first settlers in the Deerfield 
valley found an Indian trail, leading up the river 
from the town of Deerfield, and the first settlers at 
Albany found an Indian trail, leading up Hoosic 
river. It happens that these two rivers, one flowing 
toward the east into the Connecticut and the other, 
toward the west into the Hudson, come within less 
than five miles of each other, with this mountain 
between. The Indians, in going and coming be- 
tween the two valleys, took the shortest and easiest 
way across the mountains, which is about here. 

“ After that, back in 1755 I think it was, a rough 
road was built across the mountain, for horses and 
ox carts; then came a new road up the eastern slope, 
now called the Shunpike; after that, the old stage 
road, used for regular traffic before the tunnel was 
opened; and now we have this new Mohawk Trail. 


BOB’S HILL TRAILS 


178 

What I want to do this afternoon is to find that 
old road, built in 1755; follow it down the east 
slope, and particularly to find and mark on my map 
a spot which is called Flat Rock in the early records. 
We ought not to have much trouble following the 
road because, some fifteen years ago, a Boston man 
blazed the trees along the old trail. This road 
which we have been following crosses that old road 
somewhere, and I want you boys to help me find 
that blazed trail.^’ 

Everybody scatter,” shouted Skinny, “ and look 
for signs.” 

Rushing out from the road in every direction, we 
started, laughing and calling to each other. 

‘‘ Remember, it may not be much of a road,” 
Mr. Bradford warned. It has not been traveled 
for a hundred years in places.” 

What do you mean by blazed trail ? ” asked 
Benny, who wanted to be sure what he was looking 
for. 

“ In the early days, to keep from getting lost in 
the woods, a trail was marked by cutting a chip off 
from a tree occasionally. Marking the trees that 
way was called blazing. Our trouble will come in 
finding the blazes. The cuts must have grown over 


THE BLAZED TRAIL 


179 

in fifteen years. I am inclined to think, however, 
that the blazed part of the trail does not come over 
this far.” 

He was right, too. We couldn’t find anything 
that looked like it. 

“ Guess what,” said Benny, after we had hunted 
until we were tired. “ There is another house. 
Let’s stop and get a drink of cold water; and I 
think I see an apple tree.” 

“ It is an abandoned farm,” explained Mr. Norton, 
when we had come close enough to see. The 
people couldn’t make a living here, or else could 
not stand the terrible winters.” 

The house looked as if it had stood empty a long 
time. The windows were gone and some of the 
timbers had rotted away. It gave us a queer feeling, 
when we had opened the door and stepped inside 
and wandered through the bare rooms, where folks 
used to live and maybe boys like us used to play. 

“ Well, let’s go, fellows,” called Mr. Norton, after 
a time. “ We want to reach Cold river and make 
camp before dark.” 

We started with a shout and soon were out of sight 
of the house. Then, after a little, we heard Mr. 
Norton call, 


BOB’S HILL TRAILS 


i8o 

Has anybody seen Benny ? ” 

You could have knocked me down with a feather 
when he said that. I hadn’t thought of it before 
and hadn’t noticed that Benny was not with us, 
because we had scattered so in looking for the trail, 
but I hadn’t seen him and nobody else had. 

Benny ! Benny ! ” Mr. Norton shouted, and 
we all set up a fearful racket, but Benny did not 
answer. 

“ Who saw him last ? ” he asked, getting us all 
around him. 

“ I saw him at the house,” Skinny told him. “ He 
was wishing he had a drink of cold water. I haven’t 
seen him since.” 

Mr. Norton was frightened. He turned pale, as 
he started back to the old house, on a run. 

“ Hurry ! ” he told us. '' Something has hap- 
pened 1 ” 


CHAPTER XV 

SCOUTS TO THE RESCUE 

Something had happened to Benny ! When Mr. 
Norton said that I knew what had happened, and 
it almost paralyzed me. 

Once on Park street, when they were moving a 
building and it stood in the street over Sunday, a 
loose plank fell down and killed a boy who had been 
climbing around. That old farm house wasn’t safe 
to climb around in. Mr. Norton told us to be 
careful. It must have stood there empty many 
years, for the floors were rotten in places and some 
of the timbers probably were rotten. 

I knew what had happened, all right. Either a 
timber had fallen and struck Benny or else the 
floor had given away somewhere and let him through 
into, I didn’t know what. 

I guess Mr. Norton was thinking the same thing, 
for when he passed me there was a frightened look 
on his face and even Bill couldn’t keep up with him, 
he ran so fast. 


1 82 BOB’S HILL TRAILS 

There wasn’t any sign of Benny when we reached 
the old house again. 

“ Benny ! Benny ! ” we called; then listened. 
There was no answer and no noise anywhere on the 
mountain except, now and then, a bird chirping in 
the trees. 

“ Didn’t someone say he was wishing for a 
drink ? ” asked Mr. Bradford, when we were wonder- 
ing what to do next. I do not want to alarm you 
needlessly but these old houses often had wells in 
the cellar. Maybe — ” 

Good God ! ” exclaimed Mr. Norton; but I 
think he was praying, not swearing. 

We hurried into the house again, to look for the 
cellar door, careful where we stepped because the 
floor was bad in places. Mr. Norton found the 
door but the cellar stairs had all rotted out and 
were gone. Just then Harry gave a shout. 

“ I’ve found him ! ” he yelled. “ Here ! Come 
quick ! ” 

When we had come he showed us a little room 
off from the kitchen, which probably had been the 
pantry. We hadn’t thought to look there before. 
The floor had given away, leaving a big hole, which 
led down somewhere, we didn’t know where. 



The Floor Had Given Way, Leaving a Big Hole. 








■ ■ - ‘ 

'A'* ; -7 


-■ 1 *. 


o 


i 


•» , 

< 


> 


* j*- ' <^c« 

V V 


-• ^ 


% 


*TW L 

). t-^ 


. «'■/- 
iff*; .. - 

; -. •’> 

■ ' ?s • • . 


* 1 1 
A»* 

--' ‘ 


Tir— 


d. 


» 

*4 



-V 

V 

»> • * 

■: If!.'' 

^ t 

“T • 


>:r ^ '• kT-j 


'■ >•. 


■ i, , 


i-f 




’V ’ 


■i-. 


I « 


- n 





* M 


Z^L 



^ *k •i '■ ' S#** 


r' 


% 


- ft'* 




l'** 

\ ^ ^ 
k. J t . V 4 _ 







'• • .1 


V 

'X. • , ,. ■ . ., 

•* r * • * 

■ ■ ; J> 


♦ * *% i K^ I 

iJ ' vtA 4 .^* 



\* 


^V: ^ .. • «> ;.' J, - jr^ m S 

4 ^ ^ fAii ^ ^ • #• ■ . • •# ' *? JL •'-^» *Uf*W 

- • . , . •■ t ■•, V ‘ -S - '. ‘ ' 

.t. . ' . “ ^_ - w V '■•• ‘-f 


jp ' 

» f- 





^ « 



* 

>»% 



‘T 


- TV i ^ * • ■ 

-’ '.* ite .-^’ t»r ' 'i* '“^^r ‘ 

^ , ■'’ •“*.rflsS'^» ir ^ .>'i< ».'.■■.■ ^ fc. 

jRfi 




, / '■■■MJ^'?..*.’.'.,. - r.; ,•' •.•"“iSR’'* rik- ; ■ A < 

V 't'V •"' ■ ’^nV'*'-'’ ifl ■ ■• ■- , 

;'>V’ ■^•.V‘- /■«••> Ml __ ' y '• ; 


t ^ 





*• / 


„-i 




•s^: 


.V 

• « 






/• 


7* ‘V^ . - 

/ ■ * ^ B. ?. . 


<# 



\ji 


^ r . -'s 

.. . K '■'■ ,‘ 

■■ ' 



'* 1 , 





SCOUTS TO THE RESCUE 183 
Mr. Norton lay flat on the floor and drew himself 
forward until his head was above the hole. 

“ Benny,” he called. “ Benny, are you down 
there ? ” 

And Benny answered ! His voice sounded faint 
but we could hear him, even back where we were 
standing. 

“ Are you hurt, Benny ? ” 

“ No-o, I guess not. Not much, anyhow. I got 
a crack on my bean when I fell, and it put me out 
of business.” 

“That is Boy Scout, Bradford, for saying that 
he struck his head against something and it knocked 
him senseless,” explained the scoutmaster, who was 
beginning to feel a lot better. Then, to Benny, 

“ Where are you ? ” 

“ In an old cistern, I guess.” 

“ Is there any water there ? ” 

“ Not a drop. I wish there was. You’ll have to 
pull me out somehow. I can’t climb the sides.” 

“ Thank God, he seems to be all right,” said Mr. 
Norton, crawling back to us. “Now, to get him 
out.” 

“ My rope ! ” groaned Skinny. “ I forgot my 
rope. I knew it would bring us bad luck.” 


BOB’S HILL TRAILS 


184 

‘‘We can tie our coats together/’ Mr. Norton 
told him, “ but for once, I wish you had brought 
your rope along.” 

“ Wait, Benny,” called Bill, who had crawled to 
the hole. “We are going to make a rope of our 
coats and we’ll use our shirts, if we have to.” 

“ I’ll wait, all right,” said Benny, who seemed to 
be feeling better every minute, now that we had 
found him, “ but never mind the coats, I have 
thought how to do. There are some young hickory 
trees near the house. Cut long strips of the bark 
and twist them together. They will make a strong 
rope. 

“ Tell Skinny that I read it in a book,” he shouted, 
as Bill was backing away from the hole. 

“ The boy is right,” said Mr. Norton, getting out 
his knife. “ Harry, you and Bill get busy on that 
tree over there. Skinny and I will take this one 
close to the back door. Pedro, you and Andrew 
see if you can find another somewhere. The others 
can stay and comfort Benny, only don’t fall down 
yourselves.” 

It seemed a long time, although it probably was 
not very long, before we had a rope that would reach 
to the bottom of the cistern. 


SCOUTS TO THE RESCUE 185 

“ Can you get hold of it, Benny ? ” called Bill 
again. 

“ Yes, I can get hold of it but I don’t believe I 
can climb up.” 

“ Tie a noose in the end and put your foot through. 
We’ll pull you up.” 

Mr. Norton lay half-way across the hole and, after 
twisting the rope around his hands, lifted him a foot 
at a time. The rest of us pulled up the slack, 
standing close to the kitchen wall, so that the rope 
pressed against the door frame and couldn’t slip. 

“ I’ve got him,” called Mr. Norton, after a little. 
“ Give me your hand, Benny. Now ! Up with 
you. Careful, or you will break through in another 
place.” 

In a few seconds Benny was in the kitchen, blink- 
ing at the light but feeling happy because he was out 
again. 

Fellers,” said Skinny, as we went out through 
the yard. “ Let this be a lesson to you ; never go 
out without a rope.” 

Mr. Norton at first thought that we’d better stay 
where we were and send a couple of boys down the 
mountain after a car to take Benny home in. It 
made Benny mad. 


i86 


BOB’S HILL TRAILS 


I’m no baby,” said he, “ if I am littler than 
some of the others. I’m a Boy Scout, just the same, 
and Boy Scouts stick. Besides, it would scare my 
mother half to death. I am not hurt, anyhow. 
Honest, Mr. Norton, I am not.” 

He teased so hard that Mr. Norton finally gave 
in, especially as he knew that Benny was right; it 
would scare his mother. 

“ Very well, my boy. We’ll go, but take it easy.” 

Maybe a hickory cane would help,” said Mr. 
Bradford, taking out his knife. It was a small 
knife, not made for cutting down hickory trees. 

You can use my hatchet,” called Skinny. 

“ Don’t need it.” 

Mr. Bradford found a young hickory and bent it 
down until the bark and fibre were stretched tight 
across the place where he was going to cut. Then 
he cut away with the sharp blade, bending the tree 
more and more, and it wasn’t any trick at all. 

Now, Skinny, if you will chop it off the right 
length, Benny will have a walking stick, and it is a 
good thing to have when one is climbing mountains.” 

We all thought so, too, and each made a walking 
stick for himself, before starting down the road 
again to look for Flat Rock. 


SCOUTS TO THE RESCUE 187 

After tramping about a mile we found it, or some- 
thing that looked like it. Mr. Bradford, who was 
on ahead, shouted, 

“ Hurrah, boys ! Here it is, 1^11 bet a cooky.” 

We hurried up and found that the road passed 
over a sort of floor of rock, where some ledge below 
came just to the surface. 

Flat Rock would be a good name for this,” he 
went on. “ I think that without doubt this is the 
place.” 

He studied the map awhile. “ Now, if I am 
right,” he said, we ought to pick up .the blazed 
trail before long.” 

We found it at last, the old road, and it still looked 
something like a road in places but in other places 
it was all grown up to trees and bushes. Some- 
times we could see marks of old cart-wheels, made 
more than a hundred years ago, maybe. The blazes 
had grown over, as Mr. Bradford said, but by 
looking carefully we could find them and follow 
along. 

“ Take it easy, fellows,” cautioned the scout- 
master. 

Easy ! What I don’t see is how they ever were 
able to go over that road with ox-carts, or anything 


1 88 BOB’S HILL TRAILS 

else. It was all we could do to climb down it, walk- 
ing, to say nothing of hauling loads up the 
mountain. 

“ You must remember,” Mr. Bradford told us, 
“ that the road was in much better shape a hundred 
and fifty years ago. It probably was a difficult 
road at best but the bad places must have been 
graded and widened out with timbers and made 
passable. The storms of a hundred and fifty years 
can change things considerably. We are on the 
old trail, without doubt. It does not need the blazed 
trees to tell us that.” 

After a hard climb down the steep mountain-side, 
we came out at last into the valley of Cold river, 
which flows into Deerfield river. Just ahead of us 
was an orchard. Beyond the orchard was a barn, 
and we knew that there must be a farm-house not 
far away. 

‘‘This seems a good place to camp,” said Mr. 
Norton, after talking it over with his friend. “ Mr. 
Bradford tells me that he thinks he knows the man 
who lives here. Anyhow, he will go to the house 
and see if the farmer has any objections to letting 
some tired Boy Scouts sleep in his barn or, if the 
barn proves too hot, in that strawstack which I see 


SCOUTS TO THE RESCUE 189 
yonder. While he is gone, we can fill up our 
canteens at this spring.” 

“We could push on to the nearest railroad sta- 
tion,” he added, after a moment, “ and probably 
catch a late train back through the tunnel; but what 
is the use ? I, for one, am tired enough to stop 
right here. That strawstack looks good to me and 
a hot supper would taste fine. Besides, there is our 
campfire. I want Mr. Bradford to tell us more 
about the early history of these trails. How about 
it. Skinny ? ” 

“ Listen ! ” said Skinny, holding up one hand and 
pointing at the tree-tops, where an early evening 
breeze was stirring the leaves. 

“ You are right. Captain, as usual,” laughed Mr. 
Norton, after we had listened. “ It sounds like 
bacon frying, and no mistake.” 

“ He says for us to make ourselves at home,” 
called Mr. Bradford, as he turned into the orchard, 
lugging a pail and a basket. “ He even offered me 
a bed, being the most respectable-looking tramp in 
the bunch, but I told him that you boys would be 
afraid to sleep alone and I’d have to go back and 
keep the bears away.” 

“ Boys,” said Mr. Norton, “ if we had time and 


BOB’S HILL TRAILS 


190 

were not so hungry, we’d duck him in the river for 
that. Under the circumstances, let’s build a fire and 
cook supper.” 

“Everybody scatter and bring wood,” ordered 
Skinny. 

“ The farmer said he was willing to help along 
the good work to this extent,” went on Mr. Bradford, 
setting down a basket of fresh eggs and a pail of 
milk. 

If anybody asks you whether bacon and eggs, 
cooked out of doors, and milk and bread and butter, 
make a good supper when you are hungry, leave it 
to us. 

“ I certainly feel at peace with all the world,” 
said Mr. Norton, after we had finished. “ You may 
not believe me but I’d rather be here just now than 
in a stuffy office.” 

“ Or hoeing garden,” I put in. 

“ Well, yes. I’ll accept the scribe’s amendment. 
Will our distinguished patrol leader put the 
motion ? ” 

Skinny swung his hatchet. “ All in favor of the 
motion say aye.” 

He made a sign behind Bill’s back, for the rest 
of us to keep still. 


SCOUTS TO THE RESCUE 19 1 

“ Aye ! ” roared Bill, so loud that he almost 
scared himself, when he found out that he was the 
only one doing it. 

After that there was another Indian dance around 
the fire, while the two men looked on, and pretty 
soon the farmer came running out to see what all 
the racket was about. He stood there paralyzed 
when he saw Skinny, with his tomahawk, prancing 
around the fire, making up Indian words, and the 
rest of us doing the same. Bill Wilson jumping 
higher and making more noise than anybody. 

How do you do it ? ” asked Mr. Norton, when 
we all were quiet again and had thrown ourselves 
down on the grass. “ I have eaten so much I hardly 
can wiggle and I know you boys ate more than I did. 
Your legs must be hollow all the way down.” 

Soon it was growing dark. There was a whole 
mountain range west of us, shutting off the setting 
sun, and another higher one west of that, with only 
Hoosic valley and Bob’s Hill between. 

“ Throw on some wood, fellows,” called the scout- 
master. “ Drive away the shadows, and then we’ll 
hear some more about these mountain trails from our 
friend, Mr. Bradford.” 

We brought dead branches of trees, which we 


192 BOB’S HILL TRAILS 

found in the woods on the mountain-side, and stirred 

up the fire, until the flames leaped high in the air. 

Then we threw ourselves down in a half -circle, on 

the windward side, and waited for Mr. Bradford to 

begin. 


CHAPTER XVI 
SOME HISTORIC TRAILS 

A CAMPFIRE means more than just the fire part, 
although that is a lot of fun always. A Boy Scout 
campfire means the talk around the fire, after a day 
of hiking maybe, when our scoutmaster tells us 
stories or talks to us about the things we ought to 
know and do. It is more than fun. Mr. Norton 
says it is education. Anyhow, we learn a lot when 
he talks to us, and he says he learns from us but I 
don’t know what. 

Mr. Bradford is not a scoutmaster,” he had 
told us, “ but he is one of those men who like to dig 
back into history and see how and when things 
happened. Most of us are too busy, or think we 
are, looking after the present, to pay much attention 
to the past, or maybe we are too lazy to look things 
up for ourselves. Then along comes some man like 
Mr. Bradford and we just sit around a campfire 
and listen, or read it in a book, as Skinny seems so 
fond of doing.” 


193 


194 


BOB’S HILL TRAILS 


I remembered that, as he sat there thinking what 
to talk about and how to begin. Mr. Bradford 
looked like other folks but, say ! he knew the whole 
history by heart — dates and everything. We 
couldn’t understand it but were glad of it. 

“ You may recall,” he began, finally, ‘‘ that when 
we started down the mountain I called your atten- 
tion to a big pine, growing on the crest, and when 
we had come down into the orchard we looked up 
at it again. That pine tree marks the lowest spot 
over the mountain from the Cold river side. It 
stands five hundred feet above the river and can be 
seen from all up and down the valley. The first 
road climbed the steep slope of the mountain and 
came out at that pine. I think also it must have 
been a landmark for the Indians, in finding the old 
trail. 

It is hard for us to imagine the time when these 
valleys were the hunting grounds of Indians. I 
suppose you learned about King Philip’s War at 
school. As I came down the mountain this after- 
noon, I was thinking that King Philip, the old 
Indian chieftain, must have gone over that trail 
more than once in his day, not to mention countless 
other Indians. King Philip was trying to get the 


SOME HISTORIC TRAILS 


195 

Mohawk Indians, on the other side of the moun- 
tains, to join him in his war against the Whites. 

“ Back in the old days of the French and Indian 
War, troops carrying supplies passed over the trail, 
on their way to Crown Point and Ticonderoga, 
which you also have learned about at school. The 
first road was built about 1755; it probably followed 
the old Indian trail as closely as possible. That 
was the road we came over. This road seemed 
necessary in order to make it easier to get supplies 
to Fort Massachusetts. Before the road was built 
some cannon were sent from Boston to Fort Massa- 
chusetts, going by water to New York; then up the 
Hudson to Albany, and from there overland to the 
Fort. This was in 1751.” 

“ Where was Fort Massachusetts ? ” asked Bill. 

‘‘ It was a frontier post on the great trail from 
Canada. The fort was built of logs in 1745 and 
stood a little west of North Adams, on Hoosic river. 
The French flag waved over it once for a short 
time. A force of French and Indians captured it 
in 1 746 and burned it to the ground. The next year 
it was built up again. 

“ On the way down I called your attention to a 
spot where the trail made a short turn around a 


196 BOB’S HILL TRAILS 

cliff. In the old days more than one ox-team failed 
to make that turn and went over the cliff. That 
finally resulted in a second road, built by a man 
named Samuel Rice. The records say that Rice 
petitioned the General Court, back in 1764, for 
permission to build the road. Here, I have a copy 
of the old record in my p 5 cket. Maybe your scribe 
will read it to us.” 

He handed me a slip of paper and I read aloud, 
standing close to the fire so that I could see : 

“ The road over Hoosuck mountains being at 
present very dangerous, several creatures having lost 
their lives thereof, your petitioner hath found a 
better place for a road, and as there is about 200 
acres of Province Land near the Deerfield river, 
prays for a grant of same, he obliging himself to 
build up said mountain road as good as the land 
will allow of.” 

“ That second road,” went on Mr. Bradford, when 
I had finished reading the slip, instead of coming 
down into Cold river valley, the way we came, came 
directly down to the Deerfield valley, in a series of 
loops, to a point where the bridge now crosses Deer- 
field river, below Hoosac Tunnel. That second road 
afterward came to be called the ^ Shunpike.’ 


SOME HISTORIC TRAILS 197 
Benedict Arnold once went over that road 
horseback. He was crossing the Hoosac mountains 
on his way to Williams town. This was before he 
made his great mistake and tried to sell out his 
country to the British during the Revolutionary 
War. Does anybody remember when the Battle of 
Lexington took place ? ” 

Skinny stood up and began his Paul Revere piece, 
folding his arms like a general: 

“ Listen, my children, and you shall hear 
“ Of the midnight ride of Paul Revere, 

On the eighteenth of April, in Seventy-five, 

“ Hardly a man is now alive 
“Who-—” 


He would have said more of it but we pulled him 
down and shut it off. 

“ That is right, and Arnold rode over this moun- 
tain on the sixth of May, in seventy-five, if I re- 
member the date correctly, less than three weeks 
after the ^ embattled farmers fired the shot heard 
round the world.’ 

“In 1786 a third road was built from the sale 
of lands. It began to climb the mountain from 


198 BOB’S HILL TRAILS 

Deerfield valley, that being the nearest point to 
Hoosic valley, on the other side of the mountain. 
For the same reason this direct route was selected 
for Hoosac Tunnel. The third road was the old 
stage road, which Hoosac Tunnel put out of busi- 
ness. Toll was charged for its use and those who 
did not wish to pay toll used the Shunpike; that is 
what gave it the name. Parts of all three roads 
are still in use. 

“ The fourth road, our wonderful Mohawk Trail, 
is famous the country over. You know all about 
that. It follows the old stage road in places and in 
other places cuts across somewhere else.” 

“ This has been very interesting,” said Mr. 
Norton, when Mr. Bradford had finished, “ and I, 
for one, have learned a great deal, although I fear 
that there is only one of the dates I shall remember. 
Skinny has told us so much and so often about 1775, 
we can not forget it easily. I think Mr. Bradford 
deserves a rising vote of thanks. I shall not call for 
ayes and noes on the question because the good 
people of Charlemont go to bed early and, although 
some distance away, I am afraid Bill might disturb 
their slumbers. 

“ All who have enjoyed the campfire and wish to 


SOME HISTORIC TRAILS 199 
thank Mr. Bradford will please stand. It is unan- 
imous, Will. Now, bring your blankets, fellows. 
It is time to hit the hay, or straw, as the case may 
be. Skinny will throw what is left of the water on 
the fire.” 

“ Wait,” said Skinny. He stirred the hot coals 
to make them blaze up for the last time and stood 
there with his arms folded, in the flickering light, 
while we all wondered what was coming. 

“ Fellers,” he began, “ Mr. Bradford is great stuff. 
He is the Peruvian doughnut, all right. If he hadn^t 
wanted to find Flat Rock, we shouldn’t have had 
this trip, and if he hadn’t been a history feller, we 
shouldn’t have known about these trails. I say, 
let’s take him into the Band, as an honorary member. 
Those in favor say aye.” 

Easy, boys, easy ! ” cautioned Mr. Norton. 

He was too late. Folks must have thought some 
Mohawk Indians were coming down the trail in 
their warpaint. 

We had slept in a lot of places — in our barn; in 
a tent; on top of Greylock, with nothing but the 
ground to lie on and no blankets to cover us, but 
we never had slept in a straw stack before. Straw 
makes a fine, soft bed but it doesn’t smell as good 


200 


BOB’S HILL TRAILS 


as hay. We wrapped our blankets around us to 
keep off the dew and make us warm, for the nights 
are sometimes cool among the mountains, and soon 
were fast asleep. 

I don’t know how long we had been sleeping there 
but it was along in the night sometime, when some- 
thing touched me and waked me up. I lay there 
quiet, afraid to move. Whatever it was, was chasing 
around the stack and rummaging in the straw. I 
could hear the patter of footsteps, sometimes coming 
toward me and then moving away. I didn’t know 
what to make of it. 

Skinny, who lay next to me, was dreaming and 
muttering in his sleep. I heard him say something 
about his rope and bears. Then I knew what the 
thing was. 

There are bears in the Hoosac mountains, not 
many perhaps, but once in a while somebody sees 
one. My heart almost stopped beating, I was so 
scared, but I reached out one foot and kicked 
Skinny. 

“ Sh-h-h 1 ” I warned, when he was awake. “ Lie 
still and pretend you are dead. They won’t touch 
you then.” 

“ Who won’t ? What’s the matter ? ” 


SOME HISTORIC TRAILS 


201 


“ Bears ! I told him. The woods are full of 
^em. Don’t you hear them running around in the 
straw ? ” 

“ Jee-rusalem ! ” he whispered, after he had 
listened for a minute. “ I’ll bet he’s as big as a 
lion and maybe as fierce. I’d ought to have brought 
along my rope.” 

We both lay quiet, listening, then Skinny nudged 
me and began again, 

Pedro, where is that hickory bark rope ? ” 

Bill had it the last time I saw it.” 

Come on. Let’s get Bill and lasso the critter. 
Mr. Norton wants a bear steak; he said so. It will 
surprise him some.” 

The secretary didn’t want to do it. All I could 
think of was something Mr. Norton had told us, 
about a man who bet he could write a story and 
use only twelve words. This was the story: 

“ Algy met a bear. The bear was bulgy. The 
bulge was Algy.” 

I didn’t care so much about Algy because I didn’t 
know him but I didn’t want to be the bulge part of 
any story like that. I told Skinny so. 

Am I patrol leader, or ain’t I ? ” he asked. 

“ You may be patrol leader/’ I told him, “ but 


202 BOB’S HILL TRAILS 

I am secretary and scribe and keeper of the secret 
records. How can I write up the minutes of the 
meeting when I am only a bulge ? 

He couldn’t answer that and didn’t try. 

“ Well, I am going, anyhow,’’ he said. “ There 
can’t any bear fool around Gory Gabe and live. I’ll 
dare you to do it.” 

That settled it. When anybody dares you to do 
a thing, you have to do it. That’s all there is about 
it. 

Holding our breath, almost, we carefully slid out 
of the straw backward and crawled over to where 
Bill was lying. He started up with a jerk when 
Skinny touched him, and the thing gave a jump and 
ran off toward the mountain. 

“ Now, you’ve gone and scared him,” complained 
Skinny. ^We wanted him for breakfast.” 

Bill was mad at first because we had waked him 
up but when he found that it was a bear he began 
to get excited and was sorry that he had scared 
it away. 

After we had lain there a while, whispering, the 
thing came back. We could hear it on the other 
side of the stack. Skinny reached for the bark rope 
and tied a slip knot in the end. Then we started, 


SOME HISTORIC TRAILS 203 
crawling on our hands and knees, a few inches at 
a time, and not making a sound. 

After a little I touched Skinny, who was ahead. 
“ What will we do if you miss ? I asked. 

“ Play dead, like you said. Hedl come and smell 
of us but won’t bite us. I read it in a book.” 

Great snakes ! ” whispered Bill, putting his lips 
close to Skinny’s ear. “ What if we can’t hold him ? 
Hadn’t we better wake up the rest of the gang ? ” 

“ And scare the critter away again ? Not much.” 

By this time we had rounded the stack. And 
there stood the bear ! We could see him in the 
dim light, like a darker shadow. He had his back 
toward us and was trying to make up his mind, 
maybe, which boy to turn into a bulge first. 

He’s as big as a house,” moaned Bill. I ’most 
wish I hadn’t come.” 

Skinny motioned for him to be quiet, took a good 
hold of the rope and crept forward. We could see 
him quite plain in the bright starlight. When he 
turned away from Bill, he was wetting his lips with 
his tongue and I knew that he was just as scared as 
we were. But with Skinny being scared doesn’t 
make any difference. He goes ahead, just the same. 

Slowly, he drew near the bear and not a sound 


204 BOB’S HILL TRAILS 

could we hear. Skinny might have been a shadow 
himself, for all we could tell. Then we saw him 
raise up, whirl the loop around his head and throw. 
At the same instant, Bill and I dropped flat on the 
ground and played dead, only I looked toward the 
bear once. 

Biff ! The rope hit the thing on his head but the 
loop didn’t go over. Skinny had missed ! 

Then, as I stretched out stiff and closed my eyes, 
and was half dead from fright, anyway, there came 
a scared yelp and the beast went tearing toward 
the barn, howling his head off. 

Skinny snorted in disgust. “ A dog ! ” he ex- 
claimed. A measly pup ! And I wanted a bear 
steak for breakfast.” 

“ What is going on here ? ” called Mr. Norton, in 
a sharp voice, springing to his feet and peering 
through the darkness, ready for whatever might 
happen. “ Is that you. Skinny ? ” 

Yes, sir,” said Skinny, who had been trying to 
steal back to his blanket, without being seen. 

What is going on ? ” 

“ Nothing,” Skinny told him, except a dog. 
He’s been going on for some time.” 

We soon quieted down and went to sleep, and that 


SOME HISTORIC TRAILS 205 
was the last we knew until morning. Then the dog 
came again and with him came the farmer. He 
laughed when he saw us rubbing our eyes and brush- 
ing the straw out of our hair. . 

“ Is everything all right ? ” he asked. “ I thought 
I heard the dog howling in the night and didn’t 
know but what something had happened.” 

“ Something did happen,” explained Mr. Norton, 
— to the dog. Our valiant patrol leader thought 
it was a bear and tried to get me a bear steak for 
breakfast.” 

“ Shucks ! ” said he. “ We have wild game 
around here but I haven’t seen a bear in ten years.” 

“ That reminds me,” he went on, after a minute. 

Speaking of game, if you chaps can stand Ma’s 
cooking, what do you say to a flock of buckwheat 
cakes, swimming around in maple syrup — the kind 
that make the butter fly ? ” 

He didn’t have to ask that question twice. A 
great shout went up, that could have been heard on 
top of the mountain. 


CHAPTER XVII 
THE SIGN ON THE MILL 

Our trip across Hoosac mountains and along the 
blazed trail gave us so much to think about that we 
forgot the B. H. K. business for a while. There 
was enough to do without that. In the first place, 
we had to go swimming every day, in the Basin, 
and sometimes twice a day. That takes time. In 
the next place, — well, it is hard to tell what came 
next, where there was so much going on. Anyhow, 
we had to go berrying. 

“ Why buy berries ? ” my mother said to us one 
day. The mountains are covered with them and 
eight able-bodied boys need exercise.” 

That was what we all thought and we went after 
berries several times. Mr. Norton says that boys 
who live in big cities and even country boys who 
live away from the mountains don’t know much 
about going berrying. We are sorry for them; that’s 
all. 

There is a lot of fun going berrying. It isn’t just 

206 


THE SIGN ON THE MILL 


207 

picking berries and getting them for nothing. That 
is hot work. It is the whole business. You have 
to talk over the trip the night before and get up 
early in the morning to start before the sun grows 
hot. Then there is the climb up the mountain-side 
and the finding of great patches of wild berries 
where you don^t expect to find any, and not finding 
them where you think maybe there are some. 

After a while you come across a mountain brook, 
where you can drink and bathe your face and wade 
around a little in the cool water. Then you eat 
your lunch, lying on the grass by the side of the 
brook, where you can listen to the gurgling water 
as it pours over the stones, and can look down into 
the valley below and at the houses in the village, 
like toys in the distance. Maybe you hear a cow- 
bell somewhere; crows are cawing; a cool breeze 
stirs the tree tops; great clouds float overhead like 
ships in the bluest kind of an ocean, and you don’t 
have to bother about school or anything. 

Then, pretty soon maybe. Bill Wilson yells, 
“ Injuns ! ” and you crawl behind trees and bushes, 
with Skinny telling what to do, and forget all about 
berries and everything else, until the Indians have 
been driven off and you have saved your scalps. 


2o8 


BOB’S HILL TRAILS 


Finally, comes the walk home, after the sun has 
hidden behind the Greylock range and cool shadows 
begin to gather. It is all that, and more. 

We decided to go up to the Raven Rocks after 
blueberries one day. The Raven Rocks are on the 
side of a mountain, west of the Gingham Ground. 
The Greylock range is behind that and between the 
two ranges is a high valley, which is called the 
Bellowspipe. From the village below, the Raven 
Rocks look like a great wall of rock, all up and down 
the mountain-side. 

“ Let’s go through the Gingham Ground,” said 
Skinny, when we were ready to start. “ Maybe 
we’ll see Jim Donavan and get him to go with us.” 

Jim Donavan is leader of the Gingham Ground 
Gang and of Eagle Patrol. We had an awful fight 
with them once — but I told about that in the 
doings of the Band. Anyhow, we are friends now 
and we like Jim first rate. 

“ Jim is working in the mill,” somebody said. 
“ He told me that he had to earn some money this 
vacation to buy new clothes.” 

Why doesn’t he earn it selling berries; it’s more 
fun ? ” asked Skinny. But nobody could answer 
and we didn’t try. 


THE SIGN ON THE MILL 


209 

Pretty soon we came to the great mill, filling the 
air with the clatter of machines, and then it was 
that we thought of the B. H. K. business, or Skinny 
did. 

‘‘Great snakes! ” said Bill, who was feeling pretty 
good. “ What are we, Skinny ? Boy Scouts or 
Injuns or Bandits ? I feel like ’em all.” 

With that he stopped and braced himself. Then 
for a minute we couldn’t hear anything except the 
horrible racket Bill was making. 

“ It’s for Jim,” he explained, as soon as he could 
speak. “ He’ll hear it and know that we are going 
past. It will make him feel better.” 

“ Maybe he will come to a window,” Skinny said. 
Several men were looking out to see what all the 
noise was about. “ If he does I’ll throw him one 
end of my rope and he can sneak down and go with 
us.” 

But no Jim looked out of a window, although we 
waited to see and Skinny stood ready with his rope. 
We felt sure that he must have heard. Probably he 
was working where he couldn’t look out. 

“ I’ll tell you what we are,” said Skinny, “ and 
it is time we were holding a meeting.” 

He felt around in his pocket, until he had found 


210 


BOB’S HILL TRAILS 


a piece of chalk; then ran to the mill and began 
to draw the Sign on the brick wall. It wasn’t our 
Bandit Sign, or Scout; in the middle of the circle 
was a big letter K., and the figures calling a meeting 
of the Klan for the next morning at ten o’clock. 

“ Gk>od work, old Scout,” Bill told him. ‘‘ Is there 
blood running down ? ” 

Betcher life, only I couldn’t show it, on account 
of the white chalk.” 

Along toward evening we came down from the 
mountain, with pails filled, and started home along 
the same road. In front of the mill there was a 
crowd of men, who seemed excited about some- 
thing; — we couldn’t tell what until we had come 
close. It was Skinny’s Sign. 

I don’t know what it means,” one man was 
saying, “ but they will tell us tonight. Let every 
man of you be at the meeting. Something is going 
to happen.” 

Betcher life, something is going to happen,” 
Skinny told us, when we were out of hearing, but 
they never will find out what it is.” 

That was the beginning of big doings, which 
closed the mill and threw Jim out of a job. The 
men and women who worked there went on a strike. 




THE SIGN ON THE MILL 21 1 

There wasn’t much use in going berrying after that 
because everybody else was doing it, trying to make 
a little money to buy things to eat. And the funniest 
thing was that the folks up our way thought the 
Sign was a part of it. 
w the Sign would say, on the 
1 bridge maybe. Then Mr. Michael, 
^ / the marshal, would rush out of 
his office to look at it; and 
shake his head, as if wondering what it meant. 

It made Skinny real chesty and for a while after 
that there were so many Signs in all sorts of places 
that it kept us busy holding meetings, and I guess the 
marshal was busy trying to find out what was 
going on. 

‘‘ For mercy’s sake ! ” Mother exclaimed one day. 
“ What ails you boys ? You will wear the barn 
stairs out holding meetings and it keeps me busy 
making doughnuts. Let me tell you something. 
There is going to be a strike soon on this doughnut 
business and it won’t be at the Gingham Ground, 
either.” 

Oh, Mother,” I told her, “ we couldn’t have a 
good meeting without doughnuts — not in the barn, 
anyhow. They are a part of it.” 


212 BOB’S HILL TRAILS 

Soon there were plenty of good deeds to do. The 
Gingham Ground was getting hungry. Day after 
day passed and not a wheel was stirring in the big 
mill. It seemed queer not to hear tlie clatter of 
machinery, when we went through the place, on our 
way after berries or for a hike up Ragged mountain. 

It seemed queer, too, to see the men on the street 
in the daytime. They used to wave at us sometimes 
from the open windows of the mill but now the win- 
dows were closed and the men were sitting idle on 
their door-steps or were gathered in groups on the 
street, talking excitedly and waving their arms. 

We didn’t know what it was about. All we knew 
was that the Gingham Ground folks were out of 
work and out of money, and that the grocery stores 
wouldn’t let them have things to eat imless they 
paid for them. There were plenty of good deeds to 
be done but if there was any wrong to be righted, 
we didn’t know how to do it. 

We were talking it over with Mr. Norton one 
day, wishing the mill would start up again. 

Why don’t they do the way we and the Gingham 
Ground Gang did after we had our fight,” asked 
Skinny, “ shake hands and forget it ? What is the 
trouble, anyhow ? Don’t they pay the men enough?” 


THE SIGN ON THE MILL 


213 

“ That is what the men say but the company says 
something else. I suppose it is a part of the hard 
struggle upward — the age-long fight between those 
who work with their hands and those who employ 
them, between capital and labor. Both sides are 
right and both sides are wrong. The men demand 
more pay and shorter hours. Maybe they ought to 
have both, I don’t know. Most of them have a 
pretty hard time, at best. If a man does good 
work, he surely is entitled to enough pay to live on 
and educate his children and save up something for 
his old age. He ought to be able to get a little 
comfort out of life, both in the mill and in the home. 
That is what they say they want.” 

“ That sounds good to us,” said Skinny. 

“ Yes, it does. But let us be fair and look at the 
other side. There are always two sides, you know. 
Suppose, Skinny, that you Bob’s Hill boys have 
worked hard and gone without ice cream sodas and 
other things, until you have saved enough money to 
go into the berry business. You buy some land and 
plant berries. Maybe you will get a crop and maybe 
not but you are willing to risk it. You hire some 
other boys to help do the work, boys who have not 
saved their money, or maybe have not had a chance 


BOB’S HILL TRAILS 


214 

to save. Would you pay those boys more money 
than you could make out of the berries ? ” 

“ We couldn’t; we’d gp broke.” 

“ There you have the other side. The mill owners 
say that if they should pay the extra wages asked, 
the mill would lose money, unless the employes 
could weave enough more gingham in a day to make 
up for the extra pay. And they say that if they 
should cut down the working day from ten to eight 
hours, the mill would lose money, unless the employes 
could weave as much gingham in eight hours as 
they now weave in ten hours. Maybe they could 
and would; I don’t know. The mill owners say 
that they worked and saved their money, until they 
were able to build that mill. They are willing to 
risk their money but they do not propose to let some- 
body else tell them how to run their business.” 

“Why, that seems all right, too,” Skinny said, 
trying to puzzle it out. “ Betcher life when the 
Summer Street Gang tried to make us keep away 
from the Basin there was something doing right 
away.” 

“ That is what I told you. Both are right and 
both are wrong. They are wrong in this way. No- 
body can make me believe that there is not a work- 


THE SIGN ON THE MILL 215 
ing basis somewhere, which is just to both sides — to 
the men who pay the bills and manage the business 
and the men who do the work. The thing to do is 
to find it, and neither side seems willing, even to 
look for it.” 

“ I am afraid there will be ‘ something doing,’ as 
you say, at the Gingham Ground, before this thing 
is over,” he went on, gloomily. The men are 
growing ugly. The company plans to open the mill 
next week with workers brought in from outside. 
I want you boys to keep away from there.” 

« We’ve got our good deeds to do,” said Bill. 

Well, do your good deeds in the daytime, and 
you’d better not wear your robes and masks. The 
first thing you know, somebody will think you are a 
part of the strike.” 

“ They do now,” I told him. “ They think our 
Sign is a part of it.” 

“All the more reason for you to keep away. 
There is going to be trouble, boys. There always 
is, when an attempt is made to break a strike.” 

“Guess what, Mr. Norton,” put in Benny. 
“ Can’t you do something about it ? Both sides 
know you and like you. The men do, anyhow, on 
account of Eagle Patrol.” 


2I6 


BOB’S HILL TRAILS 


“ I have been trying to, Benny, and with small 
success so far. I have been to the company and I 
have been to the men. I have tried to get each to 
look for that just working basis, which I told you 
about. It is there somewhere but neither side 
seems willing to look for it. 

I don’t want to criticize the labor unions; there 
is much to be said in their favor. But, too often, 
the rattle-brained and reckless ones attend the meet- 
ings and run things, while the sober-minded, think- 
ing men stay at home. The glib talker becomes a 
leader and, too often, he is like an empty wagon. 
He just rattles; that is all. I do not want to be 
unfair but it seems to me that often the men hired 
by the unions to look after things are mere trouble- 
makers. They are good business men and their 
business is to make trouble. If there was no trouble, 
they soon would be out of a job.” 

A lot of foreigners work in the mill,” said Harry. 

“ The Indian is the only pure-blooded American 
that we have,” Mr. Norton told him, with a smile. 

It is a fact, of course, that many of the mill-hands 
were born in Europe and have not yet become fully 
Americanized. They do not understand the real 
meaning of liberty. Neither side seems to realize 


THE SIGN ON THE MILL 


217 

that the big thing, in this country, is obedience to 
law, which is the will of the people. 

“ Fellows, the most dangerous thing in this great 
and wonderful America of ours, is disregard for law, 
on the part of both rich and poor; on the part of 
both capital and labor; on the part of grown people 
and boys, as well. 

I am afraid we are getting in over our heads,’^ 
he went on, after a minute. But this thing I 
KNOW — ” 

When he said, I know,’’ he gave the table such 
a whack I thought he would break it. 

Somewhere there is a working basis, fair to both 
sides. Why not look for it, instead of looking for 
trouble ? 

And this thing I know,” he went on, slamming 
the table again with his fist, “ and if you forget 
everything else I am saying, I want you to remember 
this. Nearly two thousand years ago there lived a 
workman, named Jesus, who laid down a rule of 
conduct which, if followed today, would settle this 
strike and every other strike in five minutes. It 
has been called the Golden Rule, ‘ Do unto others 
as you would have others do unto you.’ Nowa- 
days we call it ‘ The Square Deal.’ 


2i8 


BOB’S HILL TRAILS 


“ Fellows, in a few years you will be working for 
somebody or somebody will be working for you. 
Make this your motto, ' A Square Deal for All/ ’’ 
For a few days after that we were too busy having 
fun to think any more about it. Then one morning, 
when we were holding a meeting at the cave, we 
heard a whistle outside, and the scream of an eagle. 

Je-e-rusalem ! ” exclaimed Skinny. The 
Gingham Ground Gang ! Say ! We’ll put a head on 
those fellers, if they don’t keep away from our cave.” 

“ I’ll go and see what they are up to,” Bill told 
him, and crawled out through the hole. 

He came back in a few minutes. “ It’s Jim 
Donavan,” he said. He is up on Pulpit Rock and 
he is all alone.” 

Jim knew about our cave. We took him there 
once, when he was all in, after the big fight. 

Something has happened,” said Skinny, after 
thinking a moment, or else Jim wouldn’t have come 
up here while we are holding a meeting. Jim is 
square — clear through. Shall we go out and see 
what he wants, or shall we bring him into the cave ? ” 
“ Blindfold him and bring him in,” growled Bill. 
“ ’ Tis well. Pedro, you go with Bill and bring 
the varlet in.” 


THE SIGN ON THE MILL 219 

Jim saw ns coming and made his way off from 
Pulpit Rock to meet us. 

“ Are the others here ? ” he asked. 

“ They are in the cave,” I told him. We^ll have 
to blindfold you.” 

“ All right, only hurry up about it. There isn^t 
any time to lose.” 

We covered his eyes with a handkerchief; then 
pushed him through the opening ahead of us. When 
he had set down and all of us had gathered around, 
we took off the bandage. 

“ Fellows,” said he, solemnly, “ they are going to 
blow up the mill.” 


CHAPTER XVIII 
THE SQUARE DEAL 

When Jim said they were going to blow up the 
mill, it scared us. He was scared himself, it was 
easy to see that. I thought at once of what Mr. 
Norton had said would happen when they tried 
to break the strike and start the mill. 

“ How do you know ? ” Skinny asked, after a 
moment. 

“ I heard two men talking about it. I was look- 
ing for blackberries up near the Raven Rocks this 
morning, and so were the men, but they didnT see 
me. 

“ ‘ We^ll get them all right tomorrow,’ one of them 
was saying. I was resting in the shade of a rock, 
on the other side of the bushes, where they couldn’t 
see me. 

‘ What time will they pull it off ? ’ asked the 
other. 

^ Just after they start the mill in the morning. 
There will be enough powder planted to blow in the 
whole end of the building and set fire to the rest.’ 


220 


THE SQUARE DEAL 


221 


* Somebody will get killed/ said the second man. 

‘ It is bad business. I don’t care what happens to 
the mill but — ’ 

“ ^ You ain’t getting cold feet, are you ? ’ sneered 
the first man. ‘ Ain’t they taking our jobs away 
from us ? Do they think we are going to stand 
around and twiddle our thumbs while they are doing 
that ? ’ 

“ ‘ Oh, I’ll stick with the gang, of course, but I am 
going to be up here on the mountain looking for 
berries when it happens, just the same.’ ” 

“ After that,” Jim said, “ the men went out of 
hearing.” 

“ Who were they ? ” 

“ I am not going to tell. They are Gingham 
Ground folks, boys. I have worked with them, and 
I am not going to give them away. But we’ve got to 
stop it somehow. I don’t know who is right and 
who is wrong in this strike business, although it 
seems to me the men must be right, but it can’t be 
right to blow up the mill and perhaps kill a lot of 
people.” 

“ Come with us and we’ll ask Mr. Norton.” 

“ No,” he objected, it won’t do for me to be 
seen in this at all. There is no telling what they 


222 


BOB’S HILL TRAILS 


would do if they found out I was the one who told. 
You can tell Mr. Norton what I heard but he must 
not say a word about me to a living soul, and you 
mustn’t. 

“ Nobody saw me come up here. As soon as the 
men were out of sight I climbed up to the Notch 
road and then came straight here, hoping I’d find 
you at the cave. If I hadn’t I was going to cross 
over to Bob’s Hill and down through Pedro’s garden, 
into his house. I am going back the same way, and 
I am going now.” 

Before we could blindfold him again, he crawled 
through the opening of the cave, splashing into the 
brook in his hurry, and was gone. 

“ Great snakes ! ” said Bill. “ What do you know 
about that ! What are we going to do ? ” 

There was only one thing to do. We all knew 
that. Get to Mr. Norton as fast as our legs could 
travel. 

We found him at his office, as he was leaving for 
dinner. 

It is bad business,” he said, after he had heard 
our story — just what the man had said at the 
Raven Rocks. It is the work of hot-heads, of 
course. The great body of men and women em- 


THE SQUARE DEAL 


223 

ployed at the mill are good citizens. They do not 
always understand and sometimes are misled, and 
their rights are not always respected; but they 
would not do a thing like that, I am sure.^’ 

What can we do ? asked Skinny. 

I don’t feel certain in my own mind what to do 
but we’ll do something and do it right away. It 
would be easy enough to tell the police but I don’t 
want to do that. Some of us have been working with 
the mill owners, trying to get them to appoint a 
committee to meet the strikers and settle the thing. 
In fact, only last night the owners agreed to it, if 
the strikers would appoint a similar committee and 
not call in outsiders. We found them inclined to be 
reasonable. 

“ But you can imagine what would happen should 
they hear of this. It would mean a fight to the 
finish and certain defeat for the strikers. The full 
purse is bound to win in a show-down, every time. 
I must think this over. Meet me here after dinner, 
and ‘ mum’s the word,’ as Skinny says. Keep Jim’s 
name out of it, whatever you do. Anybody who 
would blow up a mill would blow up Jim’s home.” 

“ John, what is the matter ? ” asked my mother, 
when she caught me alone after dinner. “You 


BOB’S HILL TRAILS 


224 

seem excited about something. Are you about to do 
another good deed ? ” 

‘‘ It’s something big,” I told her, “ but it’s a 
secret.” 

“ Well, all right,” she laughed, as long as I do 
not have to fry doughnuts this hot day.” 

“ I have thought of a plan,” announced Mr. 
Norton, when we met him a little later. ‘‘ It may be 
that I am just the one to put it across. I hope so. 
I have worked so much with the Boy Scouts at the 
Gingham Ground that the people know me and seem 
to have confidence in me, as Benny suggested. 

“ Boys, I have faith in my fellow men, and I be- 
lieve that if I can put this up to the men down there, 
in the right way, they will do the rest. It would be 
the worst thing that could happen to them, to have 
that plot succeed. I am going down to the Gingham 
Ground at once and see what I can do.” 

“ May we go with you ? ” asked Skinny. 

“ No, I shall have to work alone — or, wait — ” 

He gave a little laugh at something he was think- 
ing about. 

“ Pedro is scribe. I’ll take him along to write up 
the minutes of the meeting. As for the others — 
watch for our return. I do not believe there is any 


THE SQUARE DEAL 225 

danger. Still, men desperate enough to blow up a 
mill might do almost anything, and ‘ Be Prepared,’ 
you know, is our Scout motto. 

‘‘ Skinny, if I am not back by five o’clock, it will 
be because I am being held there by force. In that 
case, you will know what to do.” 

“ Betcher life,” said Skinny, whirling his rope, 
which he had taken with him. 

I think a better way,” laughed the scoutmaster, 
“ would be to tell the police and let them handle it; 
but we must not do that until we have to.” 

The scribe felt very proud, walking down to the 
Gingham Ground with the scoutmaster, and kind 
of scary, too. It was only a mile and we walked 
along fast, neither one saying anything. Mr. 
Norton was thinking what he would say to the men. 
I knew that, without his telling me. 

When we had come near we found the street lined 
with men and a great crowd around the mill gate. 
Many of them knew Mr. Norton and spoke to him. 
Those whom he knew real well and trusted, he called 
to one side and whispered a few words to them; 
then went on to the next group. 

In this way we passed through the village and 
finally climbed the stairs leading to a hall, over a 


226 BOB’S HILL TRAILS 

store. Some men already were there, when we went 
in, and they came in fast, both men and women, 
until the room was crowded. I knew some of them 
myself. Jim Donavan was in one corner, standing 
on something, and wondering what was going to 
happen, I guess. 

When all were in who could get in, one of the 
men went out in front and spoke to them. He was 
the father of one of the Eagles and was a sort of 
leader at the Gingham Ground. 

“ Many of you know Mr. Norton,” he said. If 
you don’t, your boys do. He is a scoutmaster who 
is greatly interested in working among the boys, and 
he has been of great help to our own boys at the 
Gingham Ground. One of his Boy Scouts from 
Raven Patrol is with him. Our boys belong to 
Eagle Patrol, and I see one or two of them here. 
Jimmy Donavan, over there in the corner, is their 
patrol leader. 

“ Folks, I’m not a speaker, myself, but Mr. 
Norton has asked us to come in here where he can 
say a few words to us on the quiet. I don’t know 
what he wants to say but I do know that any friend 
of our boys is our friend, and we will be glad to 
listen to him.” 


THE SQUARE DEAL 


227 

There came a shuffling of feet and some hand- 
clapping, as Mr. Norton stepped out in front. He 
stood there, smiling at them, until all were quiet; 
then he began to speak. 

I am not going to put down all that he said, 
although he took me along to write up the minutes 
of the meeting. There wasn’t any place to write 
and I couldn’t have kept up with him, if there had 
been. 

“ Ladies and Gentlemen,” he began, ‘‘ Friends, 
Fathers and Mothers of my boys — I bring you 
good news.” 

Say! He had them coming, as soon as he had said 
that. Then he went on and told them what he had 
told us boys at his office, and how he had taken it 
upon himself to go to some of the mill owners, who 
had boys in one of his Boy Scout patrols, and make 
an effort to settle the strike. 

“ I believe they are willing to do the right thing,” 
he went on, “ if only we can make sure what is the 
right thing.” 

“ Yes, they are ! ” sneered a voice. “ They are 
going to open the mill with scab labor, in the morn- 
ing. Maybe that’s what you call the right thing.” 

There were shouts of That’s so,” and “ Put him 


228 


BOB’S HILL TRAILS 


out but Mr. Norton held up one hand, and soon 
there was quiet again. 

We found that they had been planning to do 
that very thing,” he said, “ and we succeeded in 
showing them where they were wrong. This was 
only last night. The mills will not open in the 
morning with outsiders in your places. 

“ I told them, my friends, that I knew you men 
and I knew that you wanted only what was fair and 
just — a square deal. Was I right ? ” 

There was a clapping of hands and one man 
yelled, 

“ That’s what we want and that’s what we are 
going to have ! ” 

“ The owners told me the very same thing, that 
all they asked was just and fair treatment. 

<< ‘ Why, then, it is easy,’ I said. ‘ Find out what 
is fair and right and put those people back to work 
on that basis. Somewhere, men. I’ll say to you 
just as I said to them, somewhere — and we can find 
it if we look for it — there is a working basis, which 
will be just to them and just to you. Let’s find 
that basis and start these mills running again. 

I promised them, my friends, that you would 
appoint a committee of employes, who would meet 


THE SQUARE DEAL 229 

with them and do their level best to find that just 
basis. Will you make my words good ? ” 

A cheer went up from most of them, as Mr. 
Norton stopped speaking, and the man who had 
opened the meeting came forward again. 

“ Name a committee, folks,” he shouted. “ How 
will this one suit ? ” 

He named two men and a woman, and there were 
shouts of Good ! ” “ Good ! ” 

All in favor say aye.” The ayes rattled the 
windows. 

‘‘ Those opposed say no.” There were only a 
few scattering noes. 

“ The ayes have it. Boys, I am thinking we’ll 
all be back at work within three days.” 

The/e was great cheering and the crowd turned 
to go. Then Mr. Norton stepped out in front again. 

“ Stop ! ” he shouted, and they all turned back, 
wondering. 

“ Our friend here says that you all will be back 
at work in three days. I believe it. But tell me 
this, men : How will you be able to go back to work, 
if there is no mill to work in ? ” 

“ What do you mean ? ” somebody asked. 

‘‘I mean this: Some of your number, perhaps 


BOB’S HILL TRAILS 


230 

in this hall now, are plotting to blow up the mill 
tomorrow morning — plotting to blow up your jobs, 
just as you are about to get them back again. Are 
you going to stand for it ? ” 

The whole room was in an uproar in a minute. 
‘‘ Who is it ? ” How do you know ? ” No ! 
No ! ” were shouted at him, all at once. 

“ I don’t know who it is,” he told them, “ and I 
do not want to know; but I do know it to be a 
fact. A dynamite mine is to be planted tonight 
and if it goes off it means that grass will grow in the 
streets of the Gingham Ground. 

“ This came to me straight, men, just before 
dinner today, and my answer has been to come 
straight to you. It is your affair, not mine, and I 
know you will protect your own interests and pre- 
vent this plot from being carried out.” 

I want to add one word to what Mr. Norton 
has told you,” said the man who had taken charge 
of the meeting, as soon as he could make himself 
heard. I want to thank him for coming to us with 
this matter instead of going to the police. If we 
do not put a stop to this dynamite business, we will 
not deserve to be called Americans. You can be 
sure, Mr. Norton, that there will be no dynamite 


THE SQUARE DEAL 231 

planted tonight, and if we catch anybody trying it, 
he is going to get hurt, as sure as you are a foot 
high.” 

‘‘ Well, Keeper of the Secret Records,” said Mr. 
Norton, on our way home. I believe we have 
stopped this thing for a few days but I don^t like 
to think what may happen if that committee does 
not get down to brass tacks.” 

‘‘ We ? ” I began. “ You, you mean.” 

“ And when you write up the minutes of the 
meeting,” he went on, with a smile, don’t forget 
to say that it was a great help to your scoutmaster 
to have with him a genuine Boy Scout in uniform, 
reminding those men of their own boys and the 
work he has tried to do among them.” 


CHAPTER XIX 

SKINNY SCARES THE PICNIC 

Once more the clatter of machines could be heard 
at the Gingham Ground. The mill was running again 
and trying to make up for lost time. It began to 
look as if the Klan would be out of a job. 

All during the strike we had carried food to 
several families and kept them going. I don’t know 
what they would have done, if we hadn’t. But we 
didn’t wear our robes, only our masks. We always 
went after dark and a different boy took the food to 
the house each time, putting on his mask before 
going up to the door and setting the things in the 
entry. 

It was almost time for school to begin again and 
almost time for Mr. Norton to go away, which was 
worse. We didn’t like to think about either one. 
School is a good thing but it isn’t anything like a 
cave, or even our barn. 

We all were meeting in the barn one day, trying 
to think of some good deed to do, where we could 


232 


SKINNY SCARES THE PICNIC 233 
wear our robes and have some fun doing it. Skinny 
looked at his watch, then drew our cave Sign on the 
floor. There was a circle, with the figures 9 and 14, 
and a big K in the center. It meant to meet at 
the cave in thirty minutes. There was not much 
more than enough time to get there. 

Guess what,” said Benny, as we were about to 
start. What^s the matter with wearing our robes ? ” 

“ Somebody might see us,” Harry told him. 

What if they did ? They wouldn’t know who 
it was. Besides, we can go up through Plunkett’s 
woods and not put on the robes until we get in 
among the trees.” 

That seemed a good thing to do and everybody 
was for it. Each boy made a bundle of his robe 
and hat; then we chased up the railroad track to the 
road which turns toward the woods. 

As soon as we were out of sight from the road, 
behind some bushes, we stopped and put our things 
on. It almost scared me to see the Klan in their 
black robes, peaked hats and masks, in the woods, 
that way. They didn’t look like boys or anything 
else, I guess, unless it was the imps of Satan ” the 
man told about that time. It was great fun but hot 
with our masks on. 


234 


BOB’S HILL TRAILS 


“ Mum’s the word,” said Skinny, in a sort of 
whisper. He waved a stick and pointed. “ To the 
cave, men. Forward.” 

He marched ahead and we followed after, step- 
ping in his tracks and making no sound on the pine 
needles, which covered the ground. Suddenly he 
stopped and dropped down behind a bush. We 
dropped, too; we didn’t know what for but it seemed 
best. Then we crawled up to where he was stooping 
down and looking through a small opening. 

Great snakes ! ” said Bill, when he had looked. 
“ Good-night ! ” 

One after another, we crawled up and looked; 
then dropped back to the ground and looked at 
each other. 

“We can take off our robes and masks,” I told 
them, “ and they won’t know.” 

“ Maybe they have ice cream,” said Bill, smack- 
ing his lips. 

“ It’s the girls in our class having their last picnic 
before school opens,” said Harry. “ They wouldn’t 
invite us.” 

Skinny had been trying to think what to do, and 
when Harry said that I saw him sort of stiffen, as if 
he had decided. 


SKINNY SCARES THE PICNIC 235 

“ That’s so ! ” he exclaimed. “ I had forgotten 
it. Let’s surround ’em.” 

“ It is almost time for the meeting,” I told him. 
“ It will take too long.” 

“ Not if we hurry,” he whispered. ‘‘ Everybody 
scatter. Make your way around on all sides. When 
you hear the caw of a raven, charge.” 

We crept away, without making a sound; then 
waited for the signal. Suddenly it came, from across 
on the other side. 

Caw ! Caw-caw ! ” 

You can’t do much charging in the woods, with 
robes flying and catching on the bushes, but we did 
the best we could. They were scared, all right. 
When they saw what was coming, they gave some 
awful screams and made a bee-line for Bob’s Hill 
and the village. I never saw girls run so fast. 
They didn’t even stop to put on their hats. 

It tickled Skinny. “We’ll show ’em,” he said. 
“ Having a picnic and not inviting us ! ” 

He hunted around under his robes, until he found 
a pencil ; then tore a piece of paper from one of the 
bundles the girls had left. 

“ B. H. K.,” he wrote, and there was blood drip- 
ping down. 


BOB’S HILL TRAILS 


236 

He fastened that to a tree, in plain sight, and then 
we hurried on to the cave. Nobody else saw us, 
unless somebody was looking out of Ezra Bowen’s 
house, or out of one of the houses beyond. 

We played around for a while, on Pulpit Rock 
and in the cave. It was great, in our robes that 
way, looking like bandits, or we didn’t know what. 

“We must do some more good deeds, fellers, or 
right some wrongs,” said Skinny, finally, after we 
had crawled into the cave. “ What good is the Factor 
Factotum Inkibus, anyhow ? He hasn’t found 
anything* to do. Let’s duck him under Peck’s Falls.” 

“ Duck nothin’ ! ” Bill told him. “ I don’t see 
that the Most High and Mighty Potentate is good 
for much. He hasn’t thought of anything for a 
week back.” 

“ Guess what,” put in Benny. “ There hasn’t 
anybody got a weak back.” 

“ I was going to tell about one thing,” Bill went 
on, “ only it would be such hard work I hated to 
begin, — doing it, I mean, not telling it.” 

“If it is any harder than getting in hay, forget 
it,” said Andy. 

We all felt the same. Putting in that hay was 
about the hardest work we had ever done. 


SKINNY SCARES THE PICNIC 237 

“ Maybe it is and maybe it isn’t. It is a good 
deed to be done, anyhow, and somebody ought to do 
it. I heard the folks talking about it last night.” 

“ The meetin’ will come to order,” shouted Skinny, 
“ and hear what the F. F. I. has to say.” 

“ Old Mrs. Clark, who lives up beyond us,” began 
Bill, is very poor. Mr. Clark died last spring and 
left her without much money. Winter will be coming 
on before long and she will need a lot of wood to 
burn, to keep warm with, and she can’t afford to 
buy any. My mother says she doesn’t know what 
the poor thing will do, unless the neighbors chip in 
and help her. Let’s cut some wood for her.” 

A groan went up from the Klan. 

“ You can’t cut wood with robes on,” said Harry. 

We can take them off, can’t we, after it gets 
dark ? That is what we did when we put Ezra 
Bowen’s hay in the barn.” 

“ You can’t cut wood,” objected Hank, unless 
you have some to cut.” 

That’s so,” said Bill. “ She hasn’t any v/ood 
but that is where the trouble comes in. We’ve got 
to get her some; that’s all.” 

“ How much money have we, Pedro — I mean 
Keeper of the Secret Records ? ” asked Benny. 


BOB’S HILL TRAILS 


238 

Sixty-five cents,” I told him. We want more 
than that for Mr. Norton’s present. He is going 
away in three weeks.” 

“ You can’t do much of anything with sixty-five 
cents,” said Bill. “ It wouldn’t buy much wood, 
anyhow. Maybe we can earn some more.” 

“ Not with school almost ready to begin. How 
about it. Most High and Mighty Potentate ? ” 

It is up to the Keeper of the Secret Records,” 
said Skinny. That is what a secretary is for.” 

It is not — ” I began; then I thought of some- 
thing. 

“ My folks,” I told them, “ have a wood-lot up on 
East mountain, in Savoy. Don’t you remember ? 
We cut a Christmas tree up there one year. That 
is where we get all of our wood. Maybe they will 
let us have three or four cords for Mrs. Clark. 
We can cut it up and it won’t cost anything.” 

Another groan went up from the Klan, and I saw 
Harry feeling of his muscle and shaking his head. 

Skinny looked around for his hatchet to swing and 
couldn’t find it. Then he jumped to his feet and 
stood there, with his arms folded like a bandit and 
the peak of his hat sweeping the roof of the cave. 

“All in favor of having Pedro’s folks give old 


SKINNY SCARES THE PICNIC 239 

Mrs. Clark four cords of wood for us to cut up, 
say aye.” 

“ Aye,” we all yelled. Bill Wilson making more 
noise than anybody. 

“ ’ Tis well I Let be what is.” 

Then Skinny stood there, paralyzed, for a gruff 
voice came in through the opening of the cave, 

“ Come on out of that, you fellows. One at a 
time. Come with your hands up.” 

Great snakes ! ” I heard Bill Wilson say, whis- 
pering to himself. “ I wish I hadn’t come.” 

We all looked at Skinny. He was swallowing 
hard, back of his mask, and wetting his lips with 
his tongue. 

“ Step lively ! ” came the voice again. If you 
are not all out here in sixty seconds, we’ll begin 
shooting.” 

Bill and I started for the opening, with our hands 
up, but Skinny grabbed us before we had taken two 
steps. 

“ Take off those robes,” he said, “ and follow me. 
Quick ! ” 

Our cave, as you know, if you have read about 
the doings of the Band, has two ways to get in and 
out. The one which we always use when we hold 


BOB’S HILL I'RAILS 


240 

our meetings, because it is a lot easier, is at the edge 
of Peck’s brook, where the water comes almost into 
the cave. We have to step carefully, when we have 
shoes and stockings on, to keep from getting our 
feet wet. 

The other entrance is farther up the side of the 
ravine, back from the brook, where Tom Chapin 
fell in when he first discovered the cave. That 
upper entrance we keep covered with brush so that 
nobody can see it. There is a big hole, several feet 
deep, and near the bottom of that hole is an opening 
between some rocks, through which we can wriggle 
and finally get into the real cave part. 

We crawled out that way once, when a cloud-burst 
had filled the cave with water and we had to get 
out or drown. That time we had to dive for the 
opening and crawl through under water. It was 
awful. Since then we have kept a rope hanging 
there, tied to the root of a tree, to make it easy to 
climb out if we have to. 

I hadn’t thought of that rope in a long time 
but I knew in a second what Skinny was going to 
do, when he tore off his robes and started for the 
inside opening. Suddenly he stopped and grabbed 
Benny; then pushed him in through the hole. 


SKINNY SCARES THE PICNIC 241 

Pedro, you go next and help him,’* he whis- 
pered. “ Hurry ! ” 

There wasn’t any time to talk about it, for we 
expected them to commence shooting into the cave 
every second. We were through in a jiffy. Benny 
didn’t need any help. He caught hold of the rope 
and before I could boost him he had scrambled to 
the top and pushed away the brush. I was up al- 
most as soon as he was. The other boys were close 
behind and following us up the side of the ravine, 
careful not to make any noise. 

Skinny came last. He was almost to the top, and 
I thought we were going to get away, when he 
caught his toe on a root and fell. A shower of dirt 
and stones went rattling down, as he struggled to 
his feet; then a man, holding a gun, stepped around 
from behind the rock, under which our cave is, 
and saw him. 

Skinny looked at the man and the man looked at 
Skinny. 

“ Hello, Mr. Michael,” said he, with a grin. “ It’s 
you, is it ? Don’t shoot. I’ll come down.” 

“ Well, I’ll be gosh-swiggled ! ” said the marshal, 
for that was who it was. We had thought it was 
robbers and it was only the marshal. 


242 BOB’S HILL TRAILS 

“ What are you doing here ? ” he asked, after a 
moment. 

“ Holding a meeting in our cave. We thought 
you were a robber.” 

“ It’s that kid they call Skinny Miller,” said the 
marshal, turning to some men who had come out 
from behind the rock. “ The rest of the gang are 
not far away, you can be sure.” 

“ How did you get out of the cave without our 
seeing you ? ” 

“ That is a secret,” Skinny told him. 

Oh, it is, is it ? Well, what were you doing in 
those robes and masks ? ” 

“ What robes and masks ? ” asked Skinny, pre- 
tending that he didn’t know what the marshal was 
talking about. 

“ Now, don’t play innocent; it won’t go down. 
We saw you wearing them and we saw you crawl 
into the cave. What is the big idea ? That is 
what I want to know, and you will give it to me 
straight, if you know when you are well off. What 
did you think you were doing, when you scared the 
girls ? ” 

“ It’s all off, fellers,” Skinny called to us. Come 
on back. We’ve got to tell.” 


SKINNY SCARES THE PICNIC 243 

Then we told him about the B. H. K., and he was 
gosh-swiggled several times. 

“ Scaring those girls was not a good deed/^ he 
said, finally. In fact, it was a mean one. You 
frightened them half to death. They came piling 
into my office like a flock of sheep. You have had 
us guessing for some time with this Klan business 
# and when we found your card on the tree, in Plun- 
kett’s woods, we made up our minds to get you.” 

“ We were only having a little fun with the girls,” 
Skinny told him. We didn’t know they were there 
when we started. We were on our way to the cave 
to hold a meeting.” 

“ Put on your robes again. Let us see how you I 
look.” 

We crawled into the cave and in a minute came 
out again, with our things on. 

“ I don’t blame the girls for being frightened,” 
laughed the marshal, when he had looked us over. 

‘‘ I am almost scared myself.” 

“ Say ! ” he exclaimed, suddenly. “ You fellows 
must have been the devils in the cemetery. Is that 
right ? ” 

Skinny grinned and hung his head. 

What in the world were you doing there at that 


BOB’S HILL TRAILS 


244 

time of night ? Stealing chickens like Sam 
Cooper ? ” 

Skinny looked at Bill and then at me, to see if we 
thought that he ought to tell. 

I nodded my head. What was the use ? They 
would have found it out, anyhow. 

“ It is a secret,” Skinny told him, but we might 
as well tell you. We had just finished getting in 
Ezra Bowen’s hay and were on our way home. We 
were just as scared as Sam was.” 

“ Ezra Bowen’s hay ! ” he shouted. “ Did you 
boys put that hay in the barn ? 

“ Well, I’ll be gosh-swiggled ! ” he said again, 
when we nodded our heads. 

Say, boys ! ” he went on, as soon as he and the 
other men had finished laughing. “ You mean all 
right, anyhow. We’ll shake hands and call it quits. 
But don’t scare any more picnics, or you will get 
into trouble.” 


CHAPTER XX 

A LETTER FOR THE KLAN 

Everybody in town was talking about the B. H. K. 
and our good deeds, especially getting in Ezra 
Bowen^s hay and the devils in the cemetery. We 
couldnT go out in the street, without being stopped 
by somebody and asked about it. 

“ Land sakes ! ” exclaimed Mrs. Barker. You 
boys are the beatenist ! How did you ever think of 
such a thing ? ” 

“ Read it in a book,^^ Skinny told her. 

I think that Dad knew about it all the time except 
at the very first but he never let on, and pretended 
to be as much surprised as anybody when the mar- 
shal found out who had been doing it all. 

“ It has been good work, John,” said he, “ an ex- 
perience which you never will forget and which, I 
think, will leave a lasting mark on your character. 
Keep it up, my boy, as you go through life, — per- 
haps not the robes part but the helpfulness. Scatter 
sunshine and kindness as you go along.” 


245 


BOB’S HILL TRAILS 


246 

“ I now can understand,” he went on, after a 
minute, what has been something of a puzzle to 
me, why your mother was so generous with her 
doughnuts.” 

It made us feel good but something still bigger 
came a few days later, when I met Skinny at the 
postoffice, after supper one night, and the postmaster 
handed him a letter. His eyes stuck out like saucers 
when he was reading it. You almost could have 
hung your hat on them. 

Gee-whilikins ! Pedro,” said he. Read this.” 

Then before I could read it he snatched the letter 
away and put it in his pocket. 

“No, not here,” he added. “We must have a 
meetin’.” 

There wasn’t time to wait for the Sign, so we 
hung around the postoffice, knowing that pretty soon 
every member of the Band would drop in. 

“ It is too late to go to the cave,” Skinny told 
us, when all were there, “ but we can get to Pedro’s 
barn in two minutes. Come on.” 

“ What are we. Skinny ? ” asked Benny, after we 
had climbed the barn stairs and were standing 
around for a minute before getting busy. “ Are we 
Scouts or Bandits or B. H. K.’s ? ” 


A LETTER FOR THE KLAN 247 

For answer Skinny went over to the chest, where 
we kept our things, took out his robes and put them 
on. Then the others made a jump for the chest 
and soon the eight of us were sitting around in a 
row — black masks, peaked hats and everything. 
The sight of all those masked figures, sitting there 
in the growing darkness, without moving or making 
a sound, gave me a queer feeling, and I guess every- 
body was feeling the same way. 

The Most High and Mighty Potentate looked 
around for his hatchet and couldn^t find it. Then he 
stepped to the hay mow, grabbed a pitchfork and 
stood there glaring at us, as if ready to pitch sinners 
into the fire, like the woman told my mother. 

“The meetin^ will come to order,” he shouted, 
pounding the floor with the handle of the fork. 
“ The Keeper of the Secret Records will call the 
roll.” 

“ Cut it out. Skinny,” I urged. “ Never mind the 
roll ; we want to hear the letter.” 

He made a quick lunge with the pitchfork and 
stood there, in his robes, pointing the tines at my 
heart. 

“ The roll ! ” he thundered. 

Anyhow, that^s the way he told me to put it down 


248 BOB’S HILL TRAILS 

in the minutes of the meeting but it didn’t sound 
much like thunder to me. “ Hissed ” would be more 
like it, and I told him so. 

“Everybody is here,” I said, after each of the 
robed figures had answered to his name. 

“ Is there any business to come before the 
meetin’ ? ” 

Nobody said a word. If there was any business, 
we didn’t know what it was. 

“ Maybe the Factor Factotum Inkibus has some- 
thing to tell us ? ” 

“ School begins tomorrow,” growled Bill, “ and 
we’ll have to cut out the good deeds. We finished 
chopping Mrs. Clark’s wood today, anyhow. 
Pedro’s father is going to send it over to her.” 

“ ’ Tis well. Anybody else got anything to say ? ” 

“ The letter ! Skinny,” I whispered. “ The letter ! 
It soon will be too dark to read it.” 

“ Order ! ” he shouted, pounding the floor with the 
handle of the fork. 

“ The Keeper of the Secret Records will read the 
message.” 

He handed me the letter. I snatched it in a hurry 
and turned to the window to read, before he could 
change his mind. What I saw there almost took my 


A LETTER FOR THE KLAN 249 
breath away. The letter was written to “ The B. 
H. K., care of Mr. Gabriel (Skinny) Miller,” and 
this is what it said; 

“ Members of the Mystic Klan: — 

“ We, the undersigned, having heard of your good 
deeds with pleasure and being desirous of showing 
our appreciation of them in something more sub- 
stantial than words, do hereby pledge ourselves to 
provide a suitable club room for your meetings, 
furnish the same properly, and keep the table filled 
with reading matter and games. 

“ A meeting of citizens will be held in the town 
hall, next Saturday evening, to talk over plans for 
this club room, and each and every one of you is 
urged to be present. Come with or without your 
robes, as seems most befitting the dignity of your 
noble Order and the secrecy of your doings.” 

It was signed by nearly everybody in the village, 
it seemed to me. The boys all sat there speechless 
while I was reading and even for a moment after I 
had finished. Then Bill jerked off his mask and 
let out a yell. 

“ Great snakes ! ” he exclaimed, when he had 
come up for breath. “ What do you know about 
that 1 ” 


250 BOB’S HILL TRAILS 

That ended the meeting. We threw off our robes 
and all began talking at once. 

How about the cave ? ” asked Harry, finally. 

Does it mean for us to give up our cave ? If it 
does, I’m against it, every day in the week.” 

And me,” “ And me,” That’s right,” said the 
others. 

We all looked at Skinny, being patrol leader and 
Most High and Mighty Potentate, to hear what he 
had to say about it, but it was Benny who thought 
what to do. 

“ Guess what,” said he. “ Why not have the club 
room for the Boy Scouts, all the Boy Scouts in the 
village, not just our own patrol, and keep the cave 
for ourselves alone ? ” 

‘‘Don’t leave out the Gingham Ground Gang,” 
added someone. “ They are outside the village. 
They need a club room more than we do because they 
haven’t any cave.” 

“ They are looking for one,” Skinny told him, “ up 
at the Raven Rocks. There ought to be a good one 
there somewhere.” 

That was the thing to do; we could see it in a 
minute. We decided to go to the meeting in our 
Scout uniforms, robes and masks being so hot. 


A LETTER FOR THE KLAN 251 

“ Fine business ! ” said Mr. Norton, when we had 
told him about it. “ You can make that club room 
a big thing for the boys of the town. Your plan is 
splendid. Keep the Klan out of it. That is like 
your cave, just for yourselves alone. This should be 
a Boy Scout affair, and for our whole troop, as you 
say. 

“ It will boost the Boy Scout movement in great 
shape and it will get the older people interested in it. 
That is what we need more than anything else.” 

After all, it was kind of good to get back in school 
again, with Teacher and all the girls and boys 
around; to look over in the corner and see Bill 
scowling into his book and thinking he was studying 
hard, and Skinny, slipping over to the blackboard 
and drawing the Sign, when Teacher wasn’t looking. 

We talked it over with Mr. Norton, the night 
before the big meeting in the town hall. He had 
wanted to have one more campfire and asked to 
have it on Bob’s Hill. 

When I told Mother that we were going to have a 
goodby campfire, she made a big pan of doughnuts 
for us to take up on the hill. 

I have seen a lot of boys,” she said, “ all ages — 


BOB’S HILL TRAILS 


252 

some of them so old that their hair had fallen out 
and maybe their teeth — and I never saw one yet 
who couldn’t eat good doughnuts.” 

“ Your doughnuts, Mrs. Smith, and your kindness 
and sympathy, have done more for these boys than 
I have been able to do, with all my trying,” Mr. 
Norton told her, when we had met at our house. 

Go along with you,” she said, shooing us out of 
the kitchen, but she smiled at him, just the same. 

We went up through the orchard and climbed the 
hill, just after the sun had gone down behind Grey- 
lock. Mr. Norton stood there a long time, looking 
at the mountains and up and down the valley, as if 
he would like to carry them away with him. 

“ This business of making a living,” he told us, 
when we had gathered around the fire, “ sometimes 
takes us away from the scenes we love best. 
You boys, after a time, will scatter, most of you. 
One or two may stay here but not more, in all prob- 
ability. And when you are far away and think 
back through the years, you will find, I am sure, that 
there will be a sort of halo around Bob’s Hill. The 
people who will live here then will not be able to see 
and feel just what you will see and feel. 

“ Do you realize, boys, that, right here and now. 


A LETTER FOR THE KLAN 253 
you are having the happiest time of your lives ? 
Later years will bring their own joys, great ones too, 
but along with those joys will come responsibilities, 
and sorrows perhaps, unless you should be more 
fortunate than most people.” 

“ Guess what,” said Benny, getting ready to run. 

Skinny has sorrow now. Sadie won’t speak to 
him, on account of his scaring the picnic.” 

“ That is pretty tough, for a fact,” laughed the 
scoutmaster, when things had quieted down again. 

Maybe she will get over it. Skinny, after tomorrow 
night.” 

Oh, I don’t care,” said he. “ Girls are queer, 
anyhow. You never can tell what they will do.” 

So young and so wise I ” exclaimed Mr. Norton. 

‘‘Now just a word about school,” he went on. 
“ It is not easy for a boy to realize that school is his 
big chance. Abraham Lincoln walked miles to get 
what little schooling he had, and he studied by the 
light of the fire.” 

“Look what he grew to be, without going to 
school much,” Skinny told him, “ President of the 
United States.” 

“ That is true but there was something in Lincoln, 
which all boys do not have. It was the will to learn. 


BOB’S HILL TRAILS 


254 

School can not give that to a boy; it is up to him. 
Because of that will to learn, the old district schools, 
such as your grandfathers used to attend, turned out 
some big men, and our modern colleges, because of 
the lack of the will to learn, turn out some pigmies. 

You can learn outside of school. Lincoln did. 
And after you have left school and gone to work, 
you will find that you have only commenced to learn. 
But school makes it easier. I don’t remember of 
having met a man, however successful, who did not 
wish he had made better use of his time in school, 
when he had a chance. 

“ This is your chance, boys. If you do not learn 
now in school, you will have to do it later, or you 
never will get anywhere, and later you will find that 
the business of living will demand most of your time 
and attention. 

‘‘ Now is your chance, boys. More than ever be- 
fore, it is necessary to have a trained mind. There 
are Bob’s Hills and Greylocks to climb, in business, 
in life. Dig your heels in, fellows, and climb. Try 
it this year, if only because I ask you to.” 

I don’t see how we can get along without you,” 
Skinny told him, ‘‘ but, betcher life, we’ll dig in our 
heels. Won’t we, fellers ? ” 


A LETTER FOR THE KLAN 255 
We never can pay you for all you have done 
for us, Mr. Norton,” I said. 

“ Yes, you can. You can dig in your heels and 
make me proud of you, for one thing. That would 
repay me for all I have tried to do. You can repay 
me in another way. In a few years, you boys will 
be as old as I am now. You will be surprised at 
how soon that time will come. There will be other 
boys coming along, just as you boys are coming 
along now. Give them a helping hand. Keep the 
good work going.” 

We sat talking around the glowing embers for a 
long time. The sky slowly darkened in the west, 
and across the valley a great ball of fire came up 
from behind Hoosac range. In the light of the full 
moon Greylock loomed big and black, and we could 
begin to see up and down the valley again. 

Before we leave,” said Mr. Norton, after he had 
looked and looked, until we thought he never would 
stop, I am going to ask Bill Wilson to give one of 
his justly-celebrated yells. I shall hear nothing 
like it out west, I am sure.” 

Bill straightened up and took a long breath; then 
began. I’ll bet they heard him at the Gingham 
Ground. Before he had finished. Skinny pulled out 


256 BOB’S HILL TRAILS 

his Boy Scout hatchet and commenced an Indian 
dance, waving his tomahawk as he jumped high in 
the air, and singing a lot of Indian words. 

We all followed and did the same, circling around 
Mr. Norton and yelling, “ Hi ! Hi ! ,” every time we 
passed in front of him, where we could see his face. 
The last time around, we stood still in a row and 
gave him the Scout salute. 

There was a smile on his face, when we turned 
to go down the hill, but in his eyes I thought I 
could see something shining. 


CHAPTER XXI 
THE TRAIL’S END 


We never had been It at a meeting before, only in 
playing tag, and we didn’t know how to act. We all 
met at Benny’s, Saturday night, and marched down 
to the hall, wearing our Scout uniforms. There 
were a lot of folks in the hall and when they saw us 
they clapped their hands a little. They were think- 
ing about Ezra Bowen’s mortgage, I guess. 

“ Great snakes ! ” Bill whispered to me. What 
is it all about, anyhow ? We haven’t done anything 
much, only have fun.” 

Sh-h,” I told him. “ Put up a bluff, just the 
same. There is Mr. Norton on the platform. I 
wish he would come down and sit with us.” 

Skinny saw him at the same time. Give him the 
Scout salute, fellers,” he ordered. 

We marched down in front, as big as life, and 
saluted. Of course, he stood up and saluted back. 
It surprised the folks some, I guess. 

Come right up here, boys,” he said. “ You are 

2S7 


258 BOB’S HILL TRAILS 

expected to sit on the platform. You are It, to- 
night.” 

We didn’t like to do it but had to, and there we 
sat with Mr. Norton and some of the biggest men in 
town, looking down into the smiling faces of the 
people we knew best and liked best. 

Our own folks were there, not sitting in a bunch 
but scattered around the hall, just as they happened 
to come in, and a whole lot more. The marshal 
was right down in front. Jim Donavan waved at 
us from a back seat and with him were some Ging- 
ham Ground people, the committee who settled the 
strike. 

After we had sat there a while, waiting for what- 
ever was going to happen to begin and feeling kind 
of funny, up on the platform that way, with every- 
body looking at us. Skinny nudged Bill and motioned 
with his head, jerking it to one side. Bill looked; 
and there sat the mill owners ! Some of them had 
their boys with them and those boys had on Scout 
uniforms. 

But they were not the ones that Skinny meant 
and he jerked his head again, a little farther over. 
Bill looked once more, and so did I. I am not 
saying that they were the ones, because Skinny was 


THE TRAIL’S END 


259 

staring straight ahead, but there sat Sadie and Margy 
and some other girls ! We didn’t have time to look 
around any more, for just then the postmaster 
stepped to the front of the platform and rapped on 
the table for order. 

“ Put it down in the minutes of the meetin’, 
Pedro,” whispered Skinny. 

“ Ladies and Gentlemen,” began the postmaster, 
“ we have met here tonight on a very pleasing occa- 
sion. During the summer our village has been star- 
tled more than once by reports of masked bandits 
having been seen on lonely highways. Once in par- 
ticular, so we were informed, the devil himself was 
abroad, accompanied by a sort of furnace committee, 
all armed with pitchforks and looking for sinners.” 

When he said that, everybody laughed except us. 
We couldn’t laugh, being up on the platform, but 
Skinny looked at me and winked. 

“ It turns out that those masked bandits and imps 
of Satan were just some of our own boys. They had 
formed themselves into a sort of secret society 
and went about in costume righting wrongs and 
doing good deeds. Some of us think that it would 
be a good thing to show our appreciation of what 
they have done, by providing a club room for the 


26 o BOB’S HILL TRAILS 

boys. We called this meeting to talk over the matter 

and make plans. 

“ Furthermore, we asked those boys to come here 
tonight and let us know their wishes. They are 
here on the platform, not in their robes and masks 
but in the Boy Scout uniform, which we all have 
learned to honor. 

“ Ladies and Gentlemen, permit me to introduce 
the members of the mystic Klan, the B. H. K.” 

He stopped talking and looked at us. 

“ Stand up,” whispered Mr. Norton. “ Stand up.” 

We jumped to our feet, feeling very foolish, but a 
little proud, just the same. 

While the people were clapping their hands, the 
postmaster asked something in a whisper of Mr. 
Norton and then went on. 

“ Friends, I think that I voice the wishes of all of 
you, when I say that we should like to hear from the 
leader of this Klan and learn from his own lips what 
the members think of our plan to provide a club 
room. I shall now ask the Most High and Mighty 
Potentate to address us.” 

Skinny looked paralyzed and began to wet his lips 
with his tongue. He didn’t seem able to move except 
to motion to me to do something, being Keeper of the 


THE TRAIL’S END 261 

Secret Records. I pretended not to see him, and 
Bill gave him a kick under the chair. 

‘‘ They are just your own home folks and neigh- 
bors, Skinny,” whispered Mr. Norton. “And — 
yes, I see Sadie over there, looking this way and 
waiting for you to begin. She will think you are a 
quitter. Brace up, and give ’em Bunker Hill.” 

Then Skinny gulped and, with a scared look on 
his face, struggled to his feet. There came such a 
clapping of hands that I could see him begin to brace 
up and even get a little chesty. Skinny is a good 
speaker, one of the best in our school. He has 
made talks to the Band a lot of times, but this was 
different. 

“ Ladies and Gentlemen,” he began, just like the 
postmaster did. His voice was weak at first but 
grew louder as he went on. “ Bill Wilson said, when 
we were coming into the hall, that he didn’t know 
what this was all about, because we hadn’t done 
anything except to have fun. That is the way the 
rest of us feel; but we thank you, just the same, for 
coming here and wanting to give us a club room. 

“ The club room is all right, only we don’t want 
it just for ourselves. We’d like it for all the Boy 
Scouts in town, and that takes in the Gingham 
Ground.” 


262 


BOB’S HILL TRAILS 


He sat down and there was great clapping. I 
could see Sadie and Margy spatting their hands 
together like everything. People were looking at one 
another and nodding their heads. The Boy Scout 
club room was making a great hit. 

I can see by your faces,” the postmaster began 
again, after the meeting had quieted down, that 
you approve of the enlarged plan — a club room for 
Boy Scouts, for all the Scouts in our town. It is a 
splendid idea. Unless there is some objection, we 
shall consider that plan adopted. 

“ Now, as to ways and means. We already have 
raised a considerable sum, nearly enough to finance 
the project, I think, but somebody here, whom we 
have not seen, may wish to get in on this thing. We 
do not want to be selfish and keep all the fun for 
ourselves, any more than these boys do. We should 
like to hear from anybody who wishes to help the 
cause along.” 

There was a moment of quiet; then a stir over at 
one side, as a man made his way out to the aisle and 
to the front of the hall. He was the biggest owner 
of the gingham mill ! 

“ Platform ! platform ! ” shouted the people, 
when he turned to speak. 


THE TRAIL’S END 263 

He smiled and climbed the steps to the platform, 
where we all were sitting and wondering what was 
going to happen. 

‘‘ Fellow Citizens,” he began, “ we mill owners 
want a larger part in this splendid movement, which 
these boys seem to have started We are not sure 
what the mysterious letters, ‘ B. H. K.’ stand for 
but we think they must mean, ‘ Brave and Happy 
Kids.’ Anyhow, while the mill was closed recently, 
these brave and happy boys were busily engaged in 
making the kids at the Gingham Ground brave and 
happy. 

“ We have learned that it was through the Boy 
Scouts and their scoutmaster, Mr. Norton, that the 
regrettable strike was settled, and settled without 
violence. Through them, directly or indirectly, we 
mill owners learned that, without meaning to be, we 
had been unjust to our employes, in some ways. 
We have been able to straighten out those matters 
of injustice which led to the strike and to secure a 
spirit of cooperation and harmony, which we hope 
will endure. 

“ To make a long story short, here is what we want 
to do. We ourselves, the mill owners, want the 
privilege of building a suitable club house for the 


264 BOB’S HILL TRAILS 

Boy Scouts of this town, as a constant reminder to 
the people of the big thing for which Boy Scout-ism 
stands, and as a constant reminder to ourselves of 
our own obligations to the men and women who 
work in the mill. 

We want, furthermore, — and this, I am frank 
enough to say, was suggested to us by Scoutmaster 
Norton but has been eagerly adopted by us — we 
want one large and comfortable room in that club 
house set apart for the use of our own employes at 
the gingham mill, more particularly for those mill 
workers who, having come recently from Europe, 
are not yet used to the ways of America. Let an in- 
structor be employed to teach them our language and 
the ways of citizenship in their adopted country. 
The mill owners will build and donate such a club 
house and will join you in providing a fund for its 
maintenance. What do you say, friends ? Will 
you do it ? ” 

There wasn’t any need of taking a vote on that 
question. The whole room rang with cheers, and 
the Gingham Ground folks cheered louder than any- 
body. Then, louder than the cheering, came cries 
of 


“ Norton ! ” “Norton ! ” 


THE TRAIL’S END 265 

“ Pedro,” whispered Skinny, excitedly, “ put this 
in the minutes of the meetin’, and write it big.” 

“ In the name of the Boy Scouts of our town,” 
began Mr. Norton, “ and I am certain that our 
Troop Committee will back me up in the matter, I 
gladly and proudly accept this generous offer. I 
believe that the whole town will benefit greatly, not 
alone these boys and the mill workers. 

“ The suggestion about the club room for mill 
employes was made because, it had seemed to me, 
we older Americans do not pay enough attention to 
the Americanization of our foreign-born brothers. 
They come over here, many of them, full of hope 
and enthusiasm, and ideals perhaps, but are igno- 
rant of our language, our ways and of the larger 
meaning of America. We do little to correct this 
and then wonder sometimes when they go wrong. 

“ They are very much like boys, my friends, and 
the same doctrine which we teach to our Boy 
Scouts will be found equally good for them. Let 
me illustrate by referring briefly to the twelve points 
of Scout Law. Listen closely, and you will notice 
how well they are adapted to the Americanization of 
our foreign-born population: 

“ ‘ A Scout is trustworthy.’ That is, dependable. 


266 


BOB’S HILL TRAILS 


“ ‘ A Scout is loyal.’ Loyal to country, to home, 
to employer. 

“ ‘ A Scout is helpful.’ That is what these boys 
have been living up to, with their good deeds. 

“ ‘ A Scout is a friend to all and a brother to 
every other Scout.’ Here we have the ideas of 
brotherhood and cooperation. * 

‘A Scout is courteous.’ Lessons in courtesy are 
something needed by many native-born Americans. 

“ ‘ A Scout is kind, and a friend to animals.’ 
Good doctrine for us all. 

“ ‘ A Scout is obedient.’ Obedient to law, espe- 
cially — a lesson for us all to learn. Citizens often 
forget that in a country like ours, where the people 
rule, disobedience to law is a blow at liberty. 

“ ‘ A Scout is cheerful.’ Grumbling and whining 
never get one anywhere. 

“ ‘ A Scout is thrifty.’ To become self-support- 
ing is the first duty one owes his country. It is the 
habit of thrift and saving that makes great enter- 
prises like the gingham mill possible. 

“ ‘ A Scout is brave.’ Brave not only in the 
presence of danger, but in the presence of wrong. 

“ ‘ A Scout is clean.’ Clean in body, in thought 
and in speech. 


THE TRAIL’S END 267 

‘ A Scout is reverent.’ He is taught to love God 
and keep His commandments. 

“ You can make the application as well as I can 
and I know you will agree with me that in these 
twelve points of Scout Law we have all the essentials 
of good citizenship.” 

He stopped for a moment; then smiled at us and 
went on. 

“ Just a few words more and I shall finish. These 
boys on the platform, whom we are honoring tonight, 
and the other boys here and at the Gingham Ground, 
are the most important people in town. We some- 
times think that we are important, we older boys, who 
are running mills and stores and farms and making 
speeches, but we soon shall pass on. The future, my 
friends, rests with these youngsters. Keep close to 
them. To do so has been a joy and inspiration to 
me, and I shall miss them, while away, more than I 
care to think. Keep close to the boys, men. If 
possible make Scouts of them all. Every church 
and every school in town should have its Scout 
patrol, or troop, for the Boy Scout movement is the 
salvation of America.” 

He stepped to the wall and pulled a cord. The 
American flag, the most beautiful flag in all the 


268 BOB’S HILL TRAILS 

world, unrolled and hung there, at one end of the 
platform. Skinny and the rest of us jumped to our 
feet and saluted. Down in the hall, here and there, 
stood a Boy Scout at salute. Then the whole crowd 
arose. 

The oath, fellers,” said Skinny. And standing 
at salute before the flag, we repeated the Scout oath: 

“ On my honor I will do my best — to do my duty 
to God and my country and to obey the Scout Law; 
to help other people at all times; to keep myself 
physically strong, mentally awake, and morally 
straight.” 

Great snakes ! ” exclaimed Bill, on our way 
home from the meeting. “ That club house will be 
a big thing, all right, but the cave for us — a part 
of the time, anyhow.” 

“ Betcher life ! ” said Skinny. “ We have 
spoken.” 










n 


I 




i 


\ 


♦ 


f 


I 






’ 0 * V*' ' 

VA*' ' . 


1 


. ^ 


i- 

• ", 


\ 

, 

/ 


\ 

1 i*- ., 

■ , ' * 



I 


j 


m/ •' -i 





1 


I . 


\ 







I 


V 




J' 


r 


I 


e 


\ 


% . 


/ 


t 


f 


. » 

'i ■ 



I 


\ 


V 


> 


% 


■} sk 


t 






'VVr'--* '•v’; ».■►.’• r 


i? . % r •. r / V ,- ! I ’I 


^ <:.♦ * • r#*v>#« r #r ». * .**'L*- ^ ■.’ *.• * 

-♦.•'• #f ♦ « t •' S'* # • . » • , r*. i * • ' . . ' 

♦ . ^ . » ,t ^ r' • - •% 

V%'vr.->V.*^%£.'V ';r,r V,i'.*,,^-.%’*' 




fc -» - <•-*.•» Vk-* 

- • t _ . . . » •->-»-»».» -k- ii«. 




i«» t I % ^ ^ V'- W ^ ^ V ^ ' 


•'v'V' .‘i*. » ;-i‘-.*,* '.• 

•^if'*'-'': i’i' •• ■.■!•.--■ / ;'v* ;.■■,*■ i-\' ^ * 

• ^V'* V *'*«*• * > ^ u *4 1*^ 

■•: vr>‘.»^;v.v::,..n‘vV>v*^ 

■f > = . ••r .■ * •».--( 


f J.i. > . V ; 

. • • k > • » I. 


••'*" • r' 1, ' '. ■ ■-' -^> , V--‘ ■• » 4- V . \!} ^. 


fc'. i* i*,.****- ' *“ "i; • »*.«.v- , k 

-..-.W 1. 1 « »• i- * 4. t . .. 


• i. I*. *•-»• . k- k- 4 ft ..■•» « • 
W' 4 s.^ A IL V 


1 ^ v-v 




I'-.k-; > . V-.-' ' ; • , . I ■ 

vt’t't ,’ V »i. •■>.•; ? -. - • • 


•-’» ' •- 4. V' *. .' V, V* . ■ -.’v "v’ 


»\'r ^>-4. ‘,4 .4 ,'^ 

“‘"'I ■ v'.'-*'-' '■ '-•■ v •*■. ‘ ' 


-' •■••. iVk'vS>-..' . ; .' .'Z 

’ ; « i- ! w ».',■- I 
' ' *' .,*. • ,ki >■ • - . ; - 


'■-'■>N:' *4*‘. 




■ *1 '. . V V .• ft ■ ' V ; 1 ^• , k'v 

- •ii.'i.'* ' ‘•-V *' V 

- I-. '. ' 

■>'- ''ftr«^v-'5,’*v^’''/Vft’ k' ."ft'i- .* ft’ 


^ « % • *• » 

». 4 \. L. ^.1 

#• 4 V. ^ 

b b 4 


4 ^ V 4k 4- 4 % 


_ b fk S 

* \i.\C %i n . ^ 


!• i * , 

b 4 » ^ V 

tf » # •» ft.. 

.• r . • k > 


j-r 


hi 




ii 






I » v:» 


-i ' i » , \ * V 

li 1 ; I . ‘, . , ' . • 

iVV’l:‘vV, 

I'ji .« v« 1.1 t r . 


Im 


j:'.ltr'.!*iin 

» . • .• 4 ,1 1 > 14. 

JCi-.X'^Vvlv 








‘ r 











